REMINISCENCES  OF  A 
MOSBY  GUERRILLA 


Ccfyr-ght,  IQC^,  By  \Valden  Fawcctt. 

JOHN  S.  MOSBY,  TO-DAY 


REMINISCENCES 

OF    A 

MOSBY  GUERRILLA 


BY 
JOHN  W.  MUNSON 


FULLY  ILLUSTRATED 


1906 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


VK 
.t* 

COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
MOFFAT,  YARD  &  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


Published  October.  1906 


GO 
MY  WIFE 

WHO  FOR  THIRTY   YEARS 

HAS  BEEN 

T&t  MOST  PATIENT  AND  APPRECIATIVE  LISTENER 
THESE  STORIES   OF 

MOSBY'S  GUERRILLAS 

ARE 
AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


399183 


PREFACE 

Every  man  in  Mosby's  Command  had  ample  ma 
terial  of  which  to  make  an  interesting  story  of  his 
experiences.  Some  of  them  have  contributed  portions 
of  their  recollections  to  the  writer,  who  has  unblush- 
ingly  adopted  them  as  his  own,  much  in  the  spirit 
in  which  he  was  wont  to  appropriate  whatever  was 
contributed  to  him  by  the  Yankees  during  the  war. 
He  is  positive,  however,  that  he  is  welcome  to  use 
whatever  matter  they  have  sent  him,  for  the  same 
spirit  prevails  among  the  survivors  today  as  when 
all  were  welcome  to  whatever  each  had  in  the  days 
when  they  stood  together  to  acquire  it.  In  fact  in 
war  times  the  ancient  doctrine  of  the  Scottish  clan 
prevailed  in  all  things: 

"  For  why  ?    Because  the  good  old  rule 

Sufficeth  them;  the  simple  plan, 
That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 
And  they  should  keep  who  can." 

If  only  a  whisper  could  be  got  from  some  of  the 
closed  lips,  or  the  stiffened  fingers  of  the  dead  be 
relaxed,  these  pages  would  be  enriched  beyond  com 
pare  with  now  forgotten  deeds;  but  those  gallant 
spirits  have  long  ago  told  their  stories  to  a  Higher 
Critic,  and  I  believe  have  met  His  approval.  They 
will  not  be  forgotten,  however,  in  these  chronicles, 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

for  there  were  few  incidents  worth  recording  in  any 
story  of  Mosby's  Command  that  did  not  include  acts 
of  uncommon  bravery  and  valor. 

In  the  following  pages  Mosby's  men  will  sometimes 
be  spoken  of  as  Guerrillas,  and  their  enemies  as  Yan 
kees,  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  these  terms  were  used 
during  the  war.  Mosby's  men  made  the  word  Guer 
rilla  honorable  from  1863  to  1865,  and  no  fair-minded 
Southerner  can  deny  that  the  Union  Army  has  made 
the  world  respect  the  word  Yankee. 

With  a  pardonable  oversensitiveness  some  of  the 
old  comrades  have  objected  to  the  use  of  the  word 
Guerrilla,  but  they  need  not  be  offended  nor  fear 
disparagement;  their  fame  is  established  for  all  time. 
The  men  who  fought  them  know  what  they  were; 
and,  after  all,  history  is  built  upon  facts.  It  is  enough 
to  know  their  old  Commander  never  has  objected  to 
the  use  of  the  word  Guerrilla,  for  he  once  wrote  to 
the  author  asking  to  have  an  article  written  for  the 
New  York  Herald  which  should  deal  with  his  old 
negro  body-servant,  Aaron,  and  to  head  it,  "  The 
Nestor  of  Mosby's  Guerrillas." 

It  would  sound  odd  to  a  Mosby  man  if  he  habitually 
referred  to  his  friends,  the  enemy,  as  the  Federals 
or  the  United  States  troops  or  even  the  Union  soldiers. 
He  knew  them  in  the  old  days  as  Yankees,  and  as 
such  he  still  remembers  them ;  and  moreover  they  are 
good  enough  Yankees  for  him,  and  it  was  not  his 
good  fortune  to  find  many  cowards  among  them. 

As  far  as  possible  I  have  arranged  in  chronological 
order  the  incidents  making  up  the  story  of  our  career. 
As  they  have  come  back  to  me,  or  have  been  com- 


PREFACE  ix 

municated  to  me  by  my  comrades,  I  have  recorded 
them  as  nearly  as  possible  in  historical  sequence;  and 
if  by  chance  the  events  are  not  always  set  down  in 
the  exact  order  of  occurrence,  the  essential  accuracy, 
nevertheless,  has  been  preserved. 

No  claim  to  historical  adequacy  is  made  for  what 
is  contained  in  this  volume.  It  is  the  desire  of  the 
author  to  be  just  and  accurate  in  all  statements;  the 
truth  about  Mosby's  Command  is  always  as  interesting 
as  fiction.  Eventually  a  complete  history  of  the  Com 
mand  will  be  written,  and  its  author  will  be  the  only 
man  capable  of  doing  it  justice;  the  only  man  who 
saw  everything  and  remembers  everything  is  John 
S.  Mosby  himself.  The  purpose  of  the  author  is 
to  write  the  interesting  reminiscence  of  the  Command ; 
something  that  will  crystallize  the  atmosphere  of 
patriotism  and  romance  that  enveloped  these  men 
and  their  deeds  during  the  period  of  their  action,  not 
only  for  the  time  being,  but  for  all  future ;  something 
that  will  make  the  younger  generation  of  men,  and 
the  boys  who  love  to  read  about  fighting,  wish 
they  might  have  lived  in  those  stirring  times  to  have 
been  a  part  of  such  a  daring  and  a  merry  crowd ;  some 
thing  that  may  contribute  to  the  records  of  the  Civil 
War  certain  facts  that  might  not  otherwise  be  pre 
served. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  volume  will  give  to  future 
generations  a  glimpse  of  the  character  that  made  it 
possible  for  John  S.  Mosby,  the  greatest  and  most 
daring  "  Raider "  this  country  has  ever  known,  to 
organize,  command,  and  lead  to  innumerable  victories, 


x  PREFACE 

the    men    and    boys    who    became   world-famous    as 
"  Mosby's  Guerrillas." 

Acknowledgment  is  hereby  made  to  the  editors  of 
Munsey's  Magazine  for  their  courtesy  in  allowing  the 
author  to  use,  as  a  small  portion  of  the  present  work, 
and  in  another  form,  the  substance  of  a  brief  series 
of  articles  published  in  that  periodical  in  1904. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.    THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  RANGERS i 

II.    JOINING  THE  RANGERS n 

III.  How  WE  LIVED 21 

IV.  THE  CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON      ....  40 
V.    THE  FIGHT  AT  MISKELL'S  BARN 55 

VI.  WARRENTON  JUNCTION  AND  CATLETT'S  STATION    .     .  64 

VII.    DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE 76 

VIII.    A  NARROW  ESCAPE 93 

IX.    THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT 102 

X.    TURNING  THE  TABLES 115 

XI.    A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES 126 

XII.    AN  UNPLEASANT  EPISODE 144 

XIII.  INCIDENTS 154 

XIV.  I  AM   CAPTURED 167 

XV.    I    ESCAPE 185 

XVI.    TRYING  FOR  BIG  GAME 198 

XVII.    THE   SUTLER 208 

XVIII.    THE  CELEBRATED  GREENBACK  RAID 220 

XIX.    GLIMPSES  OF  GUERRILLA  LIFE 231 

XX.    "THE  CHIEF" 243 

XXI.    THE  COLONEL'S  SERIOUS  WOUNDING 249 

XXII.    THE  GUERRILLA'S  LAST  FIGHT 253 

XXIII.  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END 261 

XXIV.  THE  RANGERS  DISBAND 269 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE. 

1. — PORTRAIT  OF  JOHN  S.  MOSBY  TO-DAY Frontispiece 

2. — COLONEL  MOSBY  IN  1S633  IN  THE  UNIFORM  OF  A  MAJOR 

IN  THE  CONFEDERATE  STATES  ARMY 4 

3. — PORTRAIT  OF  JOHN  W.  MUNSON  AT  THE  TIME  OF  His 

ENLISTMENT  IN  MOSBY'S  PARTISAN  RANGERS 18 

4. — THE  HOUSE  WHERE  GENERAL  STOUGHTON  WAS  CAPTURED 

IN  1863,  SHOWING  A  GROUP  OF  MOSBY  MEN 44 

5. — MOSBY  PLANNING  AN  ATTACK  ON  A  FEDERAL  CONVOY.  ...     66 

6. — BARON  ROBERT  VON  MASSOW 88 

7.— MOSBY  ATTACKING  THE  FEDERAL  CONVOY  AT  BERRYVILLE.  104 
8. — LIEUTENANT  W.  BEN.  PALMER  IN  1S64 124 

9. — ON   THE    PORCH   OF   THE   HOUSE   IN   WHICH   GENERAL 

STOUGHTON  WAS  CAPTURED,  TAKEN  IN  1904 152 

10. — MOSBY  AND  A  GROUP  OF  BALTIMORE  GUERRILLAS  IN  1S65. .  174 

11. — COLONEL    MOSBY    AND    A    GROUP    OF    RICHMOND    MEN, 

PHOTOGRAPH  TAKEN  IN  1865 200 

12. — RETURNING  FROM  THE  RAID 222 

13. — PORTRAIT  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  WILLIAM  M.  CHAPMAN,  TAKEN 

IN    1S65 228 

14.— A  RICHMOND  GROUP  IN  1865 246 

15. — JOHN  S.  MOSBY  AT  THE  CONCLUSION  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

IN  THE  UNIFORM  OF  A  CONFEDERATE  COLONEL 258 

16. — FACSIMILE  OF  MOSBY'S  FAREWELL  ADDRESS....  .  270 


U  h 


i/Z 


A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

CHAPTER  I 

IHE   BIRTH    OF   THE   RANGERS 

THERE  were  many  regiments  and  brigades  and 
divisions  in  the  Confederate  armies  known 
only  by  their  respective  commanders'  names; 
rarely  by  their  numbers.  Our  little  body  of  men  was 
called  Mosby's  Men,  and  Mosby's  Command,  and  this 
was  largely  due  to  Mosby  himself.  He  took  great 
pride  in  speaking  of  us  as  "  my  men  "  and  "  my  Com 
mand/'  but  never  as  "  my  battalion/'  or  "  my  troops/' 
or  "  my  soldiers."  The  Yankees  referred  to  us,  as 
did  also  the  Northern  papers,  as  Guerrillas,  in  an 
opprobious  manner,  of  course,  but  the  term  was  not 
applied  to  us  in  the  South  in  any  general  way  until 
after  the  war,  when  we  had  made  the  name  glorious, 
and  in  time  we  became  as  indifferent  to  it  as  did  the 
whole  South  to  the  word  Rebel. 

My  story  will  cover,  partially,  our  movements  dur 
ing  the  entire  years  1863  and  1864,  and  that  part  of 
1865  extending  to  the  close  of  the  war.  I  use  the 
word,  partially,  because  I  could  not  hope  to  record 
all  of  the  adventures  that  befell  our  Command  in  a 
work  of  much  less  dimensions  than  the  Encyclopedia 
Britannica;  and  then  only  if  all  the  old  fellows  would 


2  ;  A  MOSEY  GUERRILLA 

contribute  all  their  recollections.  These  were  the  years 
when  the  Northern  and  Southern  armies  were  most 
industriously  occupied  in  the  conflict  that  seemed  to 
grow  fiercest  just  before  it  ceased. 

I  will  endeavor  to  bring  the  reader  as  close  to 
Mosby  as  I  was  during  the  struggle,  and  to  relate,  with 
as  careful  regard  for  details  as  is  possible,  the  most 
stirring  and  interesting  incidents  which  I  can  recall, 
referring  but  rarely  to  the  ponderous  documents  that, 
have  been  accumulating  in  Washington  ever  since 
Grant  said  "  Let  us  have  Peace." 

John  S.  Mosby,  around  whom  these  recollections 
will  be  woven,  was  born  in  Powhatan  County,  Vir 
ginia,  in  1833,  graduated  from  the  University  of  Vir 
ginia  in  1852,  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1855,  and 
practised  law  in  Bristol,  Va.,  until  1861.  At  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War  he  joined  the  First  Vir 
ginia  Regiment  of  Cavalry  as  a  private  and  later 
became  its  Adjutant,  holding  a  Lieutenant's  commis 
sion.  He  participated  in  constant  and  strenuous  serv 
ice  before  his  connection  with  the  Partizan  Rangers 
began.  That  organization  came  into  existence  early 
in  1863,  under  a  statute  passed  by  the  Confederate 
Congress  as  the  Partizan  Ranger  Law,  a  statute  said 
to  have  been  framed  by  Major  John  Scott  of  Virginia, 
who  tried  unsuccessfully  to  put  it  into  operation. 
Other  commands  were  organized  under  the  same  act, 
but  Mosby's  was  the  only  one,  with  a  single  exception, 
that  survived  during  the  entire  course  of  the  war. 

In  1862  a  reorganization  and  consolidation  of  many 
regiments  in  the  Southern  army  took  place,  as  grave 
yard  gaps  had  to  be  filled  up,  and  a  number  of  com- 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  RANGERS  3 

missioned  officers  were  thrown  out  as  a  consequence. 
When  Fitzhugh  Lee  was  made  Colonel  of  the  First 
Virginia  Cavalry  Regiment,  Mosby  resigned  his  com 
mission  as  Lieutenant  and  Adjutant,  and  Lee  accepted 
it.  Finding  himself  once  more  in  the  ranks,  he  be 
came  attached  to  the  headquarters  of  General  J.  E.  B. 
Stuart,  for  whom  he  acted  as  a  scout.  His  hour  had 
arrived;  opportunity  knocked  at  his  door  and  he 
grasped  it.  He  knew  he  had  found  his  proper  sphere, 
and  General  Stuart  was  soon  made  aware  of  it.  It 
was  not  very  long  before  the  Northern  army  also  made 
the  discovery. 

Mosby' s  first  notable  scouting  expedition  —  one 
without  a  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  war  —  consisted 
in  making  a  circuit,  entirely  unaided,  in  the  rear  of 
General  McClellan's  army,  which  was  lying  in  front 
of  Richmond,  in  the  early  days  of  June,  1862.  When 
Mosby  proposed  the  daring  feat  to  Stuart,  the  General 
at  once  gave  it  his  hearty  approval,  for  he  seemed  to 
know  his  man;  but  others  made  side  remarks  about 
the  risk  of  one  man's  attempting  such  a  feat  and  its 
almost  certain  failure. 

When  he  returned  from  his  expedition,  during 
which  he  found  it  necessary  to  exercise  all  his  energy 
and  courage  and  ingenuity,  he  brought  back  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  country  and  of  the  position  of  the  enemy 
which  enabled  him  safely  to  escort  Stuart  and  his 
cavalry  command  over  the  same  route.  Thus  it  trans 
pired  that  up  to  that  time  Stuart  made  the  first  and 
only  recorded  cavalry  raid  completely  around  an 
enemy's  army ;  and  Mosby  rode  in  front  of  the  column. 

Mosby  had  no  previous  knowledge  of  the  ground 


4  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

over  which  he  made  his  first  scouting  expedition,  and 
much  of  the  route  was  covered  in  the  night.  Federal 
soldiers  were  swarming  around  him  in  every  direction 
and  danger  lurked  in  every  step  of  his  way.  The 
exploit  pointed  out  the  way  to  his  military  future,  and 
General  Stuart  realized,  perhaps  as  soon  as  did  Mosby 
himself,  that  the  route  of  the  Raider  was  stretching 
before  the  young  Virginian  who  mapped  out  the  way 
around  McClellan's  forces. 

There  was  no  more  picturesque,  romantic  nor  gal 
lant  cavalry  leader;  no  more  typical,  courageous  sol 
dier  on  horseback  in  either  army,  than  "  Jeb  "  Stuart; 
but  I  question  if  he  could  have  duplicated  or  even 
originated  Mosby's  scouting  expedition.  Mosby  was 
not  only  fitted  for  scouting,  but  he  developed  into  a 
remarkable  leader  also,  a  statement  which  I  shall  try 
to  do  my  best  to  demonstrate. 

Mosby's  first  actual  command  of  the  Partizan 
Rangers  began  early  in  February,  1863,  when  General 
Stuart  gave  him  a  detail  of  fifteen  men  from  his  old 
regiment,  the  First  Virginia  Cavalry.  His  instructions 
were  to  take  his  little  band  into  Northern  Virginia  and 
"  operate  inside  the  enemy's  lines,"  as  Stuart  put  it. 
A  Captain's  commission  was  given  him  soon  after. 

The  step  was  an  irrevocable  good-bye  to  regular 
army  life  and  to  camps,  bugle  calls,  drills  and  picket 
duty.  It  meant  the  abolition  of  winter-quarters  and 
the  end  of  idleness.  There  were  to  be  no  more  ra 
tions,  clothing,  boots,  nor  equipment  from  the  Gov 
ernment.  Not  a  single  round  of  ammunition  nor  a 
weapon  for  self  defense.  To  "  operate  inside  the 
enemy's  lines  "  meant  if  necessary  to  cut  off  all  com- 


From  a  Photograpli  taken  in  iSbj. 

COLONEL  MOSBY, 

IN  THE  UNIFORM  OF  A  MAJOR  IN  THE  CONFEDERATE  STATES 

ARMY,   TO    WHICH    RANK   HE   WAS   PROMOTED  IN 

APRIL,    1863,    AFTER   THE    FlGHT    AT 

MISKKLL'S  BARN. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  RANGERS  5 

munication  with  the  lines  that  were  friendly.  It  meant 
being  in  closer  touch  with  Washington  than  Rich 
mond,  and  not  a  man  in  Mosby's  little  band  misunder 
stood  the  terrors  that  loomed  before  him.  There  was 
the  earth  for  a  couch,  only  the  quipment  with  which 
each  man  started  for  protection,  and  the  right  to  fight 
the  enemy  and,  by  sheer  force,  wrest  from  him  the 
requisites  with  which  to  maintain  the  Command  as  a 
fighting  force. 

Few  who  saw  this  first  handful  of  men  move  into 
the  wilderness,  singing  the  songs  of  war,  ever  expected 
any  part  of  it  to  return. 

It  is  perhaps  justifiable  and  reasonable,  at  this  junc 
ture,  to  state  that  Mosby's  Guerrillas  were  not  high 
waymen,  bushwackers  or  ruffians,  and  that  they  did 
not  war  upon  any  element  other  than  that  commonly 
recognized  as  the  enemy.  A  very  large  percentage 
of  them  were  well-bred,  refined  gentlemen  and  some 
of  them  had  traveled  widely;  they  regarded  Mosby's 
Command  as  the  proper  channel  through  which  to 
express  their  feelings  on  a  subject  that  made  action 
of  some  sort  necessary.  They  were  men  of  firm  con 
victions,  for  which  they  were  anxious  to  fight  and 
willing  to  make  sacrifices. 

One  may  derive  a  fair  impression  of  them  by  look 
ing  over  the  roster  of  those  who  survived  the  war. 
They  will  be  found  in  the  various  professions  in  all 
parts  of  the  Union;  many  of  them  leaders  in  social, 
political  and  commercial  life.  That  there  were  a  few 
adventurers  among  them  there  is  no  doubt,  but  as  a 
whole  they  will  compare  favorably  with  any  other 
body  of  men  North  or  South.  Since  the  war  not  one 


6  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

of  them  has  been  known  to  do  anything  to  bring  dis 
credit  upon  the  old  Command. 

Dr.  A.  Monteiro,  a  very  prominent  physician  and 
surgeon,  of  Richmond,  Va.,  who  was  a  surgeon  of 
Mosby's  Command  during  the  last  few  months  of  the 
war,  says  in  his  published  memoirs :  "  I  am  enabled 
to  say,  after  three  years  of  active  field  service  in  the 
regular  army,  that  I  have  never  witnessed  more  true 
courage  and  chivalry,  or  a  higher  sense  of  honor, 
blended  with  less  vice,  selfishness  and  meanness,  than 
I  found  during  my  official  intercourse  with  the  Parti- 
zan  Rangers." 

Mosby's  original  detail  of  a  few  men  from  the  First 
Virginia  Cavalry  was  the  nucleus  around  which  he 
built  up  the  Forty-third  Virginia  Battalion  of  Cavalry, 
composed  of  eight  companies  at  the  close  of  the  war, 
and  at  the  last  numbering,  perhaps,  six  hundred  men, 
of  whom,  owing  to  the  large  number  constantly  in 
prison  or  disabled,  never  more  than  about  three  hun 
dred  and  fifty  were  available  for  any  raid.  The  bat 
talion  was  regularly  enrolled  in  the  Confederate  Army, 
and  was  subject  to  the  same  regulations,  and  protected 
by  the  same  laws,  that  applied  to  the  army  of  Northern 
Virginia,  of  which  it  was  a  part.  Mosby  made  his 
reports  to  Generals  Lee  and  Stuart  and  worked  in 
harmony  with  them.  The  particular  mission  of  the 
Partizan  Rangers  was  to  keep  the  Confederate  Gen 
erals  informed  of  the  enemy's  movements  while  "  wor 
rying  and  harassing"  the  Federal  forces  as  much  as 
possible. 

Every  man  in  Mosby's  Command  understood  that 
he  was  expected  to  follow  his  Commander  without 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  RANGERS          7 

question,  and  the  result  was  a  blind  unwavering  faith 
in  their  leader.  Mosby  never  asked  a  trooper  under 
him  to  go  where  he  would  not  go  himself.  This  ex 
ample  spread  itself  and  made  its  influence  felt  through 
out  the  entire  Command,  and  I  recall  an  occasion 
where  Lieutenant  Ben  Palmer,  of  Richmond,  Va.,  who 
was  only  a  boy,  during  a  fight,  ordered  one  of  the  men, 
Bob  Jarman,  to  get  down  and  open  a  gate  so  we  might 
dash  through  it  at  the  enemy.  The  man  was  shot 
down  as  he  touched  the  gate.  A  second  man,  Ben 
Iden,  was  ordered  to  open  it,  and  he  also  suffered  a 
similar  fate.  Then  it  was  time  to  show,  by  example, 
what  it  meant  to  command  and  to  obey,  and  Lieuten 
ant  Palmer  jumped  down  and  opened  the  gate  and, 
remounting  his  little  grey  thoroughbred,  led  the  charge 
to  a  brilliant  victory. 

In  after  years  I  commented  to  the  Colonel  on  our 
invariable  willingness  to  go  where  he  directed,  without 
being  in  any  way  informed  of  the  work  to  be  done, 
or  the  purpose  or  the  reason  for  it. 

"  Munson,"  he  replied,  "  only  three  men  in  the  Con 
federate  army  knew  what  I  was  doing  or  intended  to 
do;  they  were  Lee  and  Stuart  and  myself;  so  don't 
feel  lonesome  about  it." 

Very  soon  after  Mosby  entered  upon  his  career  as 
a  Partizan  Ranger  the  fame  of  his  exploits  began  to 
spread  through  both  the  South  and  the  North.  Each 
day  the  newspapers  told  of  this  daredevil  Southerner. 
Sutler's  trains  and  wagon  trains  were  raided;  bridges 
were  burned ;  ammunition  and  arms  and  supplies  were 
taken;  pickets  disappeared  as  if  swallowed  up  by  the 
earth;  scouts  and  stragglers  from  the  Northern  army 


8  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

were  plucked  from  the  landscape  by  invisible  hands 
and  camps  were  raided  and  broken  up.  From  a  radius 
of  fifty  miles  we  began  to  hear  of  short,  sharp  and 
bloody  engagements,  and  throughout  Northern  Vir 
ginia  the  cry  echoed  that  "  Mosby's  men  had  been 
raiding  "  at  this,  and  at  that  point.  They  seemed  to 
have  the  power  of  striking  at  a  half  dozen  places 
simultaneously. 

In  every  Confederate  regiment  enlisted  men  began  to, 
display  an  interest  in  Mosby's  movements.  To  be 
transfered  to  his  Command  from  any  other  force  in 
the  field  was  almost  an  impossibility.  Desertion  from 
the  army  to  him  he  would  not  permit.  He  recognized 
every  claim  that  the  regular  army  had  on  its  soldiers, 
and  punished  deserters  with  a  quick  return  to  their 
regiments,  if  needs  be  under  special  guard.  The  dis 
cipline  of  the  regular  army  was  a  law  unto  Mosby 
that  was  never  broken. 

These  restrictions  opened  opportunities  to  civilians 
and  ex-officers,  so  that  Mosby  soon  found  himself  sur 
rounded  by  the  pick  and  bloom  of  the  South.  His 
recruits  were  some  of  the  very  best  blood  the  Con 
federacy  had  to  offer  on  the  altar  of  faith.  There 
were  young  fellows  just  coming  into  manhood,  some 
of  them  mere  boys;  retired  army  officers  anxious  to 
return  to  the  field;  an  occasional  foreign  soldier  of 
fortune;  a  titled  adventurer  here  and  there,  a  hot 
headed  patriot  just  turning  the  shady  side  of  life  and 
ready  as  any  dervish  that  ever  invited  Maxim  bullets 
in  the  name  of  Mohammed  to  kneel  down  and  receive 
death  for  his  beliefs. 

What  Mosby  liked  best  was  youth.     He  agreed  with 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  RANGERS  9 

Napoleon  that  boys  make  the  best  soldiers.  There 
was  in  his  Command  a  young  fellow  from  Richmond, 
one  John  Puryear,  handsome,  daring,  reckless,  and 
actually  frantic  for  fight  all  the  time.  Puryear  had 
no  admiration  for  cautious  people,  no  sense  of  fear  in 
his  composition  and  not  the  slightest  judgment  in  a 
crisis.  All  that  he  knew  about  war  was  what  he  gath 
ered  in  each  mad  dash  though  the  ranks  of  the  enemy, 
with  his  long  black  hair  flying  in  the  wind  and  his 
revolver  hot  with  action.  He  rode  his  horse  like  a 
Centaur,  and  no  enemy  ever  existed  that  this  boy 
would  not  engage  hand  to  hand,  hip  and  thigh.  Never 
theless  John  Puryear  lacked  judgment,  and  the  pros 
pect  of  his  acquiring  it  was  extremely  remote.  After 
one  of  his  most  daring  and  brilliant  rushes  Mosby 
once  said  to  him, 

"  Puryear,  I  am  going  to  make  you  a  Lieutenant 
for  gallantry." 

Puryear  swept  his  plumed  hat  in  a  bow  that  was 
royal  in  its  grace. 

"  But,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  don't  want  you  to 
ever  command  any  of  my  men." 

Puryear,  not  the  least  abashed,  but  evidently  con 
scious  of  the  compliment,  repeated  his  courtly  saluta 
tion  as  if  the  leadership  of  Mosby's  Command  was 
being  conferred  on  him.  It  was  the  Partizan  Ranger's 
way  of  showing  his  appreciation  for  a  brave  man. 
Boy  that  I  was  at  the  time,  I  understood  that  Mosby 
wanted  Puryear  to  fight  for  him,  but  not  to  think 
for  him. 

What  I  have  said  of  John  Puryear  will  apply  to 
fifty  other  boys  of  the  Command.  He  was  a  fair 


io  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

sample  of  the  younger  element.  When  they  were  not 
fighting,  they  were  generally  playing.  While  on  a 
raid  they  were  as  light-hearted  as  school  boys  at 
recess,  and  I  have  seen  them  chasing  each  other  up 
and  down  the  line  of  march  oblivious  of  any  disci 
pline  or  of  any  approximate  danger.  It  was  fine  sport 
for  them  to  see  how  well  a  new  recruit  could  ride, 
and  this  was  ascertained  by  playing  tricks  on  his  horse 
to  make  the  animal  kick  or  buck. 

One  of  our  men  had  been  shot  in  the  mouth  and 
his  tongue  healed  with  a  big  ridge  on  top,  which 
made  it  quite  an  interesting  organ.  Every  boy  in  the 
Command  knew  about  this  tongue  of  "  B's,"  and  often, 
when  they  were  having  fun  on  a  raid,  they  would 
ride  to  him  and  offer  to  pay  him  if  he  would  poke 
his  tongue  out  for  five  minutes. 

Mosby's  correct  estimate  of  men,  his  absolute  free 
dom  from  jealousy  and  selfishness,  his  unerring  judg 
ment  at  critical  moments,  his  devotion  to  his  men,  his 
eternal  vigilance,  his  unobtrusive  bravery  and  his  ex 
alted  sense  of  personal  honor,  all  combined  to  create 
in  the  mind  and  hearts  of  those  who  served  him  a 
sort  of  hero  worship.  Long  before  I  ever  set  eyes 
on  him  I  looked  forward  to  the  day  when  I  would 
be  able  to  take  my  hat  off  in  his  presence,  and  offer 
to  follow  him. 


CHAPTER  II 

JOINING  THE  RANGERS 

WHEN  the  Civil  War  broke  out  I  had  just  passed 
fifteen  years  of  age,  and  I  spent  most  of  my 
time  wondering  what  it  all  meant.  One  Sun 
day  in  the  early  Spring  of  1861,  a  report  came  to 
Richmond  that  the  U.  S.  gunboat  Pawnee  was  coming 
up  the  James  river  to  attack  the  City.  The  whole  pop 
ulation  was  worked  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  excitement. 
The  Governor  at  once  ordered  out  all  the  local  troops. 
Dignified  old  citizens  appeared  on  the  streets  armed 
and  equipped  with  weapons  that  had  upheld  the  cause* 
of  the  colonies  against  the  invasion  of  the  British  in  the 
Revolutionary  war.  A  schooner  laden  with  pig-iron 
was  ordered  sunk  in  the  channel  of  the  river  below 
the  city.  The  local  cavalry  company  of  Richmond  was 
known  as  the  Governor's  Guard,  and  it  was  ordered 
to  proceed  down  the  river  and  capture  the  Pawnee  and 
bring  it  up  to  town.  The  old  Governor  probably  had 
an  idea  that  it  could  be  hauled  out  on  the  river  bank 
like  a  skiff  and  brought  to  town  on  a  farm  wagon. 

Military  companies  in  those  days  each  had  one  or 
two  markers,  boys  who  carried  little  flags  and  whose 
duty  it  was  to  run  out  in  front  of  the  company  to  a 
given  point,  and  stand  there  like  statues,  while  the 
company  marched  up  to  and  around  them.  I  went 

ii 


12  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

down  the  river  road  that  Sunday  afternoon  with  the 
Governor's  Guard,  as  marker,  and  we  slept  out  of 
doors  for  three  nights,  for  the  first  time  in  our  lives. 
The  Pawnee  did  not  pass  Norfolk,  and  at  last  we 
marched  back  to  Richmond,  covered  with  the  dust  of 
the  campaign.  A  boot-black  offered  to  "  shine  "  some 
of  us,  and  he  came  near  being  mobbed  for  the  indig 
nity.  Every  grain  of  that  dust  was  precious  to  its 
possessor ;  we  had  been  to  the  front  and  were  real  sol- 
diers  at  last,  and  not  militia. 

This  was  my  first  soldiering  of  the  war,  and  I  be 
lieve  it  was  the  first  that  was  done  in  Virginia. 

Once  in  a  while  at  night  after  that,  when  I  was  lying 
abed  in  Richmond  all  a-tremble  for  fear  the  war  would 
not  last  long  enough  for  me  to  get  into  it,  the  snarl 
of  a  snare  drum  would  echo  up  and  down  the  street, 
followed  by  the  steady  tramp  of  the  regulars  coming 
and  going.  It  was  tremendously  alluring  to  me,  as  it 
was  to  every  other  boy  living  in  that  period.  After 
a  time,  however,  we  became  accustomed  to  seeing  the 
men  in  grey  and,  as  the  country  began  to  experience 
the  agonies  that  grew  out  of  the  conflict,  the  romance 
faded  out  of  the  situation. 

Then  it  was  that  we  began  to  hear  about  Mosby 
and  his  men.  To  my  mind  Mosby  was  the  ideal  fight 
ing  man,  from  the  tip  of  his  plume  to  the  rowel  of  his 
spur.  Stories  of  his  wonderful  achievements  came 
into  Richmond  from  every  direction.  Joan  of  Arc 
never  felt  the  call  to  go  to  battle  any  stronger  than  I 
felt  it  to  join  Mosby.  I  had  not  any  doubt  of  my  de 
sirability,  and  figured  out  that  all  the  Partizan  Ranger 
required  of  his  men  was  willingness  to  get  shot,  as  oc- 


JOINING  THE  RANGERS  13 

casion  might  require,  and  sleep  out  of  doors  in  any 
kind  of  weather.  Accordingly  I  curbed  my  appetite 
and  discarded  all  the  comforts  within  easy  reach,  as 
suming  that  suffering,  starvation  and  self-inflicted  mis 
ery  would  in  time  season  me  to  undertake  the  rigors 
of  a  campaign  with  the  Rangers.  Whenever  any 
other  information  came  in  concerning  Mosby's  move 
ments  I  added  new  discomforts  to  my  daily  existence, 
looking  forward  to  the  time  when  I  could  stand  before 
my  hero,  whom  I  had  never  seen,  and  let  him  discover, 
with  his  own  eyes,  that  I  was  a  seasoned  man,  no 
stranger  to  hardships,  and  altogether  a  valuable  addi 
tion  to  his  band  of  Guerrillas. 

One  day  I  got  wind  of  his  whereabouts.  As  a  rule 
he  was  a  hard  individual  to  locate,  although  a  great 
many  men  in  the  Union  army  were  engaged  in  looking 
for  him;  on  the  other  hand  a  great  many  of  the  same 
army  found  him  when  they  were  not  seeking  him, 
and  were  surprised  to  see  him  so  unexpectedly.  News 
that  came  to  me  from  several  sources  made  it  pretty 
certain  that  I  could  locate  him  in  upper  Fauquier 
County,  Va.,  near  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains,  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Richmond.  I  had 
nothing  else  in  my  mind  but  to  make  my  way  to  him 
and  that  as  soon  as  possible.  Horses  were  scarce  and 
hard  to  get  and,  besides,  my  departure  on  horseback 
in  any  direction  out  of  Richmond  would  have  caused 
remark  among  my  young  friends,  and  aroused  curi 
osity,  and  I  was  nursing  my  patriotic  zeal  in  secret. 

There  was  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  to  set  out 
ingloriously  on  foot. 
,_  In  fitting  myself  out  for  the  Guerrilla  life,  I  figured 


14  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

on  rapid  physical  development,  and  selected  a  dingy 
grey  suit  cut  for  a  man  about  six  feet  tall.  I  also  had 
my  hair  cut  close  and  this  added  nothing  to  my  favor. 
The  blouse  of  my  suit  was  a  sickly  yellow  shade  of 
grey,  and  it  came  down  half  way  to  my  knees.  I  was 
perhaps  the  most  unpromising  looking  candidate  for 
military  glory  ever  turned  out  of  Richmond.  For 
some  reason  that  has  never  been  satisfactorily  ex 
plained,  I  had  not  so  much  as  a  pocket-knife  for  a 
weapon.  A  large  crop  of  freckles  spangled  my  sun 
burned  face,  and  a  retrousse  nose  that  never  entirely 
lost  its  tip  shone  red  with  fire  gathered  in  the  open 
air.  I  left  Richmond  under  cover  of  night,  fearful 
lest  some  inquisitive  neighbor  should  see  me  making 
my  initial  dash  for  the  front,  a  calamity  that  would 
have  been  tragic  in  case  I  should  have  the  ill  luck  to 
be  rejected  by  Mosby. 

Ten  days  afterward,  having  passed  through  a  coun 
try  that  was  not  too  well  supplied  with  luxury,  I 
tramped  into  the  foot-hills  of  the  Blue  Ridge  Moun 
tains,  near  Markham  Station,  where  Mosby  and  his 
men  were  supposed  to  be.  Arriving  late  in  the  after 
noon,  it  took  about  two  hours  of  my  valuable  time  to 
scout  out  their  whereabouts.  As  a  matter  of  fact  any 
body  in  that  neighborhood  could  have  directed  me  to 
him  in  five  minutes  after  I  arrived;  but  that  did  not 
seem  the  proper  way  for  a  prospective  Mosby  man  to 
set  to  work.  The  Guerrilla  leader  was  fresh  from  one 
of  his  successful  raids,  and  the  admiring  country  peo 
ple  were  vying  with  one  another  to  do  him  honor  and 
to  throw  their  homes  open  for  the  convenience  and 
entertainment  of  his  Partizans.  I  finally  located  him 


JOINING  THE  RANGERS  15 

at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Jamieson  Ashby,  a  Southern 
sympathizer,  with  a  large  heart  and  a  house  always 
open  to  his  friends;  an  old  time  Virginia  gentleman, 
living  in  an  old  time  Virginia  mansion,  and  entertain 
ing  in  the  traditional  manner. 

Tired  and  footsore  I  came  toward  the  building  and, 
through  the  trees  surrounding  it,  dimly  saw  some  of 
Mosby 's  men  moving  around  on  the  lawn  and  the  wide 
veranda.  Nervously  I  swept  my  eyes  over  the  band 
in  search  of  a  big  man  with  a  showy  uniform,  a  flow 
ing  plume  and  a  flashing  saber.  Gradually  there  had 
come  into  my  mind  on  my  tramp  from  Richmond  an 
ideal  figure  that  seemed  to  represent  Mosby.  I  asso 
ciated  him  in  my  imagination  with  Generals  Lee  and 
Jackson  and  Stuart,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  I  did  not 
liken  him  to  Robin  Hood  or  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion. 
By  the  time  I  set  foot  on  the  steps  leading  to  the  wide 
porch  I  was  beginning  to  be  disappointed  at  my  failure 
to  see  and  recognize  the  tall  commanding  warrior 
whose  leadership  I  burned  to  follow.  Where  was 
Mosby  ?  Suddenly  I  felt  a  tug  at  my  elbow  and,  in  the 
hushed  silence  that  seemed  to  almost  smother  me,  I 
heard  a  voice  saying, 

"There  he  is.     Look!" 

The  moment  I  had  longed  for  had  arrived.  I  fol 
lowed  the  direction  of  a  finger  that  was  thrust  past 
my  freckled  nose,  and  the  shock  was  something  con 
siderable.  I  beheld  a  small,  plainly  attired  man,  fair 
of  complexion,  slight  but  wiry,  standing  with  his  arms 
behind  his  back,  talking  quietly  to  one  of  his  men.  A 
military  belt  girded  his  waist,  from  which  hung  two 
Colt's  army  pistols. 


1 6  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

The  visions  of  splendor  and  magnificence  that  had 
filled  my  mind  were  swept  away.  The  total  absence 
of  visible  might,  the  lack  of  swagger,  the  quiet  de 
meanor  of  the  man,  all  contributed  to  my  astonish 
ment  and  chagrin.  He  did  not  even  strut. 

I  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  speculating  as  to  whether 
it  was  best  to  engage  him  at  close  range,  or  to  take  the 
road  back  to  Richmond.  The  raiment  that  flapped 
about  my  person  began  to  expand,  or  possibly  I  was 
shrinking. 

The  stalwarts  grouped  near  Mosby,  or  sitting  idly 
along  the  veranda,  were  not  calculated  to  lighten  the 
humiliation  that  was  crushing  me.  They  were  fully 
up  to  the  standard  of  the  real  live  Guerrillas  that  I  had 
come  so  far  to  see. 

My  eyes  sought  out  Mosby  again.  What  a  pity! 
He  had  not  grown  an  inch,  nor  emitted  a  single  war 
whoop;  and  his  voice  was  so  low  that  not  a  syllable 
of  his  conversation  reached  me. 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Ashby  appeared  on  the  veranda, 
smiling,  and  announced  that  supper  was  ready,  inviting 
Mosby  and  his  men  inside.  They  heard  him  and,  one 
by  one,  disappeared  indoors  with  alacrity.  I  learned 
later  that  the  Guerrillas  always  carried  their  appetites 
with  them  on  a  raid,  as  well  as  elsewhere.  Mosby  was 
borne  in  with  the  rush,  and  I  was  left  standing  out 
side,  with  a  confused  idea  that  perhaps  it  would  be 
necessary  for  me  to  start  back  to  Richmond  without 
even  my  supper. 

"  Come  in,  Sir,  and  sup  with  us,  and  you  will  have 
a  chance  to  meet  Mosby." 

I  looked  up  and  saw  Mr.  Ashby  standing  in  the 


JOINING  THE  RANGERS  17 

doorway,  extending  his  right  hand  in  greeting,  while 
his  left  pointed  the  way  to  the  feast. 

I  lost  no  time  in  thanking  him  and  accepting  the 
invitation. 

Whether  it  was  by  chance  or  intention  I  never 
learned ;  but  Mr.  Ashby  placed  me  in  a  chair  by  Mos- 
by's  side.  He  was  busily  engaged  upon  the  appetiz 
ing  meal  when  I  took  my  seat  by  him,  and  he  did  not 
notice  me.  From  my  position  on  his  immediate  right 
I  saw  only  the  profile  of  his  face.  It  was  as  clean  cut 
as  a  cameo,  and  the  lips  were  straight  and  firm.  His 
nose,  with  a  slight  suggestion  of  the  eagle's  beak, 
was  finely  chiseled.  He  was  the  smallest  man  at  the 
table,  weighing  at  that  time  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  pounds,  and  was  but  a  little  more  than  five 
feet  eight  or  nine  inches  in  height. 

Sitting  by  his  side  I  measured  our  differences  in 
build  with  my  eye.  I  was  nearly  three  inches  taller, 
and  weighed  twenty  pounds  more  than  he. 

After  what  seemed  to  me  an  eternity,  during  which 
I  did  not  eat  a  mouthful,  Mosby  appeared  to  realize 
that  there  was  a  human  being,  a  stranger,  beside  him. 
He  turned  upon  me  suddenly,  meeting  my  full  glance. 
At  that  instant  the  secret  of  his  power  over  his  men 
was  disclosed.  It  was  in  his  eyes,  which  were  deep 
blue,  luminous,  clear,  piercing;  when  he  spoke  they 
flashed  the  punctuations  of  his  sentence.  He  looked 
at  me  intently  for  at  least  half  a  minute,  the  expres 
sion  in  his  eyes  merging  from  searching  inquisition 
into  astonishment,  and  from  that  to  amusement.  He 
took  in  every  inch  of  me,  from  my  cropped  head  to 
the  baggy  trousers  that  disappeared  under  the  table. 


i8  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

I  had  reckoned  that  the  yellow  blouse  I  wore  would 
make  a  hit  with  him,  but  he  displayed  no  perceptible 
interest  in  it. 

When  he  spoke  to  me  every  man  at  the  table  stopped 
eating  and  looked  in  my  direction. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  was  his  first  question. 

"John  W.  Munson,"  I  replied,  with  a  clumsy  at 
tempt  at  a  salute. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?  " 

"Richmond,  sir/' 

"What  do  you  want?" 

I  keyed  myself  up  to  the  grand  declaration. 

"  I  want  to  join  the  Partizan  Rangers  under 
Mosby." 

The  sentence  escaped  from  my  lips  with  accumu 
lating  force,  exploding  with  renewed  energy  at  the 
conclusion.  I  expected  to  hear  some  laughter  from 
the  men  around  the  table.  Instead,  however,  they  all 
took  on  a  serious  look,  and  gave  me  their  close  atten 
tion.  Mosby  threw  his  arm  over  the  back  of  his  chair 
and  continued. 

"  Are  you  equipped  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  my  clothes,"  I  answered. 

In  this  particular  I  was  somewhat  over  equipped, 
but  I  was  woefully  shy  of  arms  and  ammunition. 
The  full  magnitude  of  my  audacity  now  burst  upon 
the  guests  at  the  Ashby  table.  One  man  whose  chair 
was  turned  away  from  the  table,  and  who  had  lighted 
a  cigar  (captured)  began  to  laugh.  Mosby  turned 
upon  him,  and  with  one  look  silenced  the  disturber. 
Of  all  the  favors  for  which  I  am  indebted  to  Colonel 
Mosby,  none  was  ever  more  appreciated  than  this. 


JOHN  W. 
AT  THE  TIME  OF  HIS  ENLISTMENT  IN  MOSBY'S  PARTISAN  RANGERS. 


JOINING  THE  RANGERS  19 

"Can  you  get  a  horse  anywhere?"  he  resumed 
when  quiet  was  restored. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  I  answered  with  grave  doubts  as 
to  my  ability  in  that  direction. 

"  All  right ;  meet  me  at  Blackwell's  tomorrow  morn 
ing  at  sunrise,  and  I  will  talk  to  you  again." 

He  then  returned  to  his  meal  and  finished  it  in 
silence  and,  from  any  outward  indication  on  his  part 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  he  completely  forgot  my 
existence.  After  this  I  proceeded  leisurely  with  my 
supper,  for  I  was  not  disturbed  by  a  word  addressed 
to  me  by  anyone  at  the  table.  When  we  were  finished 
and,  one  by  one,  the  men  went  out  of  the  house,  I 
followed  some  of  them  to  the  stable,  and  found  two 
of  them  saddling  their  horses.  I  asked  them  the 
way  to  Mr.  Blackwell's,  and  learned  that  it  was  about 
ten  miles  distant.  I  did  not  want  them  to  know  that 
I  was  particularly  anxious  to  get  there,  so  I  crawled 
into  the  hay-mow  and  went  to  sleep. 

Long  before  daylight  next  morning  I  was  awake 
and  thinking  of  the  horse  that  I  had  promised  to 
secure.  Striking  out  alone  across  the  country,  in  the 
direction  I  had  been  told  Blackwell's  lay,  I  stopped  at 
a  farm  house  about  sunrise,  and  spoke  to  a  farmer 
who  was  going  towards  his  barn.  I  told  him  who  I 
was  and  where  I  was  going,  and  asked  him  if  he 
could  tell  me  where  I  could  capture  a  horse.  Look 
ing  at  me  in  some  surprise,  and  suspecting  that  I  was 
joking,  which  I  was  not,  for  I  would  really  have  been 
a  horse  thief  if  I  could  have  secured  a  good  animal, 
he  told  me  he  had  a  horse  to  spare  and  would  sell  her 
to  me  on  credit.  This  proposition  struck  me  at  the 


20  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

time  as  manna  falling  in  the  desert,  and  I  gladly 
agreed  to  his  terms  for  the  purchase  of  his  mare,  and 
borrowed  his  saddle  and  bridle. 

Not  very  long  after  sunrise  I  rode,  well  mounted, 
but  perspiring,  into  Mr.  Blackwell's  yard,  and  greatly 
to  my  astonishment  found  that  Mosby  and  a  few  of 
his  men  had  arrived  there  several  hours  previously. 

I  threw  the  bridle  of  my  mare  over  the  hitching  post 
and,  in  addition,  tied  a  good  strong  rope  around  her* 
neck  and  fastened  it  to  a  tree  nearby  for  fear  she 
might  get  homesick,  and  strode  into  the  house  to  an 
nounce  my  arrival.  At  that  early  day,  only  twelve 
hours  after  being  ushered  into  the  august  presence,  I 
began  to  feel  my  oats.  Mosby  turned  and  looked  at 
me  as  I  entered,  and  I  think  he  recognized  my  yellow 
blouse  or  my  freckled  nose  or  possibly  my  reserve.  In 
those  days  I  had  reserve.  At  any  rate  when  I  told 
him  I  had  got  a  horse  he  smiled  and  put  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder  as  he  asked  me  if  it  were  a  good  one. 
Somehow  I  got  the  idea  that  he  thought  I  had  been 
on  a  lone  scout  and  captured  it  from  some  picket. 
Youth  can  be  buoyant  in  imagination.  At  any  rate 
I  shall  not  forget  his  merry  humor  nor  the  twinkle  in 
his  eye. 

From  that  moment  my  clothes  began  to  fit  me  bet 
ter.  I  followed  Mosby  around  the  room  and  out  on 
the  porch  and,  after  talking  to  him  for  ten  minutes, 
somewhere  or  somehow  a  pistol  came  into  my  posses 
sion,  with  a  belt  and  holster  for  it,  and  I  was  received 
into  the  ranks  of  the  Mosby  Guerrillas,  all  ready  for 
action. 


CHAPTER  III 

HOW  WE  LIVED 

THE  life  led  by  Mosby's  men  was  entirely  differ 
ent  from  that  of  any  other  body  of  soldiers 
during  the  war.  His  men  had  no  camps  nor 
fixed  quarters,  and  never  slept  in  tents.  They  did  not 
even  know  anything  about  pitching  a  tent.  The  idea 
of  making  coffee,  frying  bacon,  or  soaking  hard-tack 
was  never  entertained.  When  we  wanted  to  eat  we 
stopped  at  a  friendly  farm  house,  or  went  into  some 
little  town  and  bought  what  we  wanted.  Every  man 
in  the  Command  had  some  special  farm  he  could  call 
his  home. 

The  people  in  that  part  of  the  state  which  was 
designated  "  Mosby's  Confederacy,"  embracing  in  a 
general  way  the  counties  of  Fauquier  and  Loudoun, 
were  loyal  to  the  South,  though  frequently  outside 
the  lines  of  the  Southern  army,  and  they  were  glad 
to  have  Mosby's  men  among  them,  not  only  to  show 
their  sympathy  with  the  South,  but  also  to  have  the 
protection  which  the  presence  of  the  Partisans  afforded 
them. 

During  the  war  all  local  government  in  that  country 
was  suspended.  There  were  no  courts  nor  court  offi 
cers.  The  people  looked  to  Mosby  to  make  the  neces 
sary  laws  and  to  enforce  them,  and  no  country  before, 
during  or  since  the  war  was  ever  better  governed. 

21 


22  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Mosby  would  not  permit  any  man  to  commit  a  crime, 
or  even  a  misdemeanor,  in  his  domain.  One  of  our 
men,  in  a  spirit  of  deviltry,  once  turned  over  an  old 
Quaker  farmer's  milk  cans,  and  when  Mosby  heard 
of  it  he  ordered  me  to  take  the  man  over  to  the  army, 
which  was  then  near  Winchester,  and  turn  him  over 
to  General  Early,  with  the  message  that  such  a  man 
was  not  fitted  to  be  a  Guerrilla. 

As  a  Command  we  had  no  knowledge  of  the  first1 
principles  of  cavalry  drill,  and  could  not  have  formed 
in  a  straight  line  had  there  ever  been  any  need  for 
our  doing  so.  We  did  not  know  the  bugle-calls,  and 
very  rarely  had  roll-call.  Our  dress  was  not  uniform 
in  make  or  color;  we  did  not  address  our  officers,  ex 
cept  Mosby,  by  their  titles;  in  fact,  we  did  not  prac 
tice  anything  usually  required  of  a  soldier;  and  yet 
withal  there  was  not  another  body  of  men  in  the 
army  under  better  or  more  willing  control  of  their 
leader.  Two  things  were  impressed  upon  us  well, 
however;  to  obey  orders,  and  to  fight. 

We  carried  no  sabres,  being  in  no  manner  familiar 
with  the  weapon's  use.  My  keenest  recollection  of 
the  value  of  a  sabre  takes  me  back  to  the  time  when 
a  large  curved  blade,  sheathed  in  clanking  steel,  was 
brought  in  with  some  captured  Union  man.  None  of 
us  dared  swing  it  at  arm's  length,  for  fear  of  killing 
a  neighbor,  but  we  subsequently  found  it  was  a  splen 
did  weapon  with  which  to  bat  a  refractory  mule  over 
the  back.  When  a  captured  mule  received  the  sabre 
treatment  with  the  flat  side,  he  forged  ahead  and 
stayed  in  front  of  the  procession  from  that  time  on. 


HOW  WE  LIVED  23 

The  jingle  of  the  steel  against  his  sides  or  back  seemed 
to  frighten  him  more  than  all  the  black-snake  whips  in 
the  Union  army.  Once  only  did  I  see  this  deadly 
engine  of  war  in  bloody  action,  and  that  was  when 
young  Emory  Pitts  of  my  Company  playfully  drove 
its  point  into  the  body  of  a  Thirteenth  New  Yorker 
who  had  fired  at  him  and  then  dodged  under  an  army 
wagon  to  escape. 

Contrary  to  a  popular  impression  we  did  not  carry 
carbines  at  any  time  during  the  war.  Each  of  Mos- 
by's  men  was  armed  with  two  muzzle-loading  Colt's 
army  revolvers  of  forty-four  caliber.  They  were 
worn  in  belt  holsters.  Some  few  who  could  afford  it, 
or  who  had  succeeded  in  capturing  extra  pistols  or 
who  wanted  to  gratify  a  sort  of  vanity,  wore  an  extra 
pair  in  their  saddle-holsters  or  stuck  into  their  boot 
legs.  These  weapons  were  extremely  deadly  and  ef 
fective  in  the  hand-to-hand  engagements  in  which  our 
men  indulged.  Long  and  frequent  practice  had  made 
every  man  in  the  Command  a  good  shot,  and  each 
was  as  sure  with  his  revolver  as  every  cow-boy  is 
with  his  six-shooter.  As  a  general  thing  our  real 
fights  were  fast  and  furious  and  quickly  over,  one  or 
the  other  side  withdrawing  at  a  dead  run  when  the 
pistols  were  empty.  At  the  present  time  the  question 
of  discarding  the  sabre  in  the  United  States  army  is 
being  discussed  very  generally  by  officers,  and  I  believe 
before  long  they  will  be  relegated  to  the  museums  and 
the  junk  piles.  I  received  a  letter  from  an  officer  of 
one  of  the  crack  cavalry  regiments  asking  me  for  a 
more  extended  opinion  of  the  sabre  than  I  had  ex- 


24  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

pressed  in  my  published  reminiscences,  and  with  hesita 
tion,  I  told  him  how  poor  an  opinion  Mosby  and  his 
men  had  of  the  blade.  I  said  that  an  Irishman  with 
a  shillelah  in  a  close-quarter  fight,  would  make  the 
average  cavalryman  ashamed  of  himself.  I  never 
actually  saw  blood  drawn  with  a  sabre  but  twice  in 
our  war,  though  I  saw  them  flash  by  the  thousand  at 
Brandy  station. 

The  Federal  cavalry  generally  fought  with  sabres  • 
at  any  rate  they  all  carried  them,  and  Mosby  used  to 
say  they  were  as  useless  against  a  skillfully  handled 
revolver  as  the  wooden  swords  of  harlequins.  As  the 
Mosby  tactics  became  better  known,  scouting  parties 
from  the  Northern  army  began  to  develop  an  affection 
for  the  pistol,  with  increasing  success,  I  might  add, 
in  the  later  engagements.  In  stubborn  fights  I  have 
seen  the  men  on  both  sides  sit  on  their  restless  horses 
and  re-load  their  pistols  under  a  galling  fire.  This 
was  not  a  custom,  however;  someone  generally  ran 
to  cover  after  the  revolvers  were  emptied.  We  both 
did  this  a  good  many  times,  but  I  believe,  without 
bragging  at  the  expense  of  truth,  that  we  saw  the 
back  seams  of  the  enemy's  jackets  oftener  than  they 
saw  ours.  I  attribute  this  largely  to  the  fact  that  we 
attacked  them  unexpectedly  oftener  than  they  attacked 
us. 

Revolvers  in  the  hands  of  Mosby's  men  were  as 
effective  in  surprise  engagements  as  a  whole  line  of 
light  ordnance  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  This  was 
largely  due  to  the  fact  that  Mosby  admonished  his  men 
never  to  fire  a  shot  until  the  eyes  of  the  other  fellow 


HOW  WE  LIVED  25 

were  visible.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  one 
of  our  men  to  gallop  by  a  tree  at  full  tilt,  and  put 
three  bullets  into  its  trunk  in  succession. 

This  sort  of  shooting  left  the  enemy  with  a  good 
many  empty  saddles  after  an  engagement. 

The  standard  uniform  simply  meant  "  something 
gray."  It  has  been  said  that  we  wore  blue  to  de 
ceive  the  enemy,  but  this  is  ridiculous,  for  we  were  al 
ways  in  the  enemy's  country  where  a  Southern  soldier 
caught  dressed  in  a  blue  uniform  would  have  been 
treated  to  a  swift  court-martial  and  shot  as  a  spy.  I 
never  knew,  nor  did  I  ever  hear,  of  any  man  in  our 
Command  wearing  a  blue  uniform  under  any  cir 
cumstances,  and  moreover  I  never  heard  of  one  of  our 
men  making  any  use  whatever  of  a  blue  uniform  or 
ever  taking  a  blue  uniform  from  a  prisoner.  We  had 
no  reason  to  use  a  blue  uniform  as  a  disguise  and,  in 
fact,  never  used  anything  for  a  disguise,  for  there  was 
no  occasion  to  do  so.  Many  of  our  attacks  were  made 
at  night,  when  all  colors  looked  alike,  and  in  daytime 
we  did  not  have  to  deceive  the  Yankees  in  order  to  get 
at  them.  On  the  other  hand  the  men  who  were  known 
as  "  Jesse's  Scouts  "  in  the  Northern  army  were  al 
ways  dressed  in  gray,  and  my  experience  with  them 
justifies  me  in  saying  that  they  seemed  to  fully  appre 
ciate  the  risk  of  their  disguise  if  they  fell  into  our 
hands. 

"  Something  gray  "  was  the  one  requisite  of  our 
dress  and  the  cost  of  it  mattered  little.  Much  of  it 
was  paid  for  by  Uncle  Sam  out  of  the  money  we  got 
from  him  directly  and  indirectly.  Like  gamblers  we 


26  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

took  chances  with  fate.  We  had  ups  and  downs ;  but 
after  our  successful  raids  we  were  the  best  dressed, 
best  equipped,  and  best  mounted  Command  in  the 
Confederate  army.  There  were  meek  and  lowly  pri 
vates  among  us,  of  whom  it  might  truly  be  said  that 
Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  as  one  of 
these.  Union  army  sutlers  supplied  us  with  a  varied 
assortment  of  luxuries,  and  I  cannot  recall  an  instance 
when  we  rejected  what  they  had  on  hand  on  over-' 
hauling  their  stock,  or  when  we  threatened  to  take 
our  trade  to  some  competitor. 

If  we  wanted  anything  that  we  could  not  take  by 
force  of  arms  we  sent  North  for  it  and  paid  for  it  with 
money  that  was  not  Confederate. 

Some  of  the  Command  were  extremely  fastidious 
in  the  matter  of  dress  and  affected  gold  braid,  bu# 
trimmings,  and  ostrich  plumes  in  their  hats.  After 
the  "  greenback  raid "  when  we  captured  General 
Sheridan's  paymasters  with  a  hundred  and  seventy 
thousand  dollars  in  crisp  new  Government  notes,  each 
man  received  as  his  share  more  than  twenty-one  hun 
dred  dollars.  The  result  was  that  all  had  clothes  and 
accoutrements  such  as  had  never  gladdened  their 
hearts  before.  At  all  times,  whether  things  went  well 
or  ill,  the  Guerrillas  were  as  vain  a  lot  of  dandies  as 
one  would  wish  to  see;  blithe  in  the  face  of  danger, 
full  of  song  and  story,  indifferent  to  the  events  of  to 
morrow,  and  keyed  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  anticipation ; 
mingled  with  this  was  the  pride  that  goes  hand  in 
hand  with  repeated  victories  and  the  possession  of 
spoils. 


HOW  WE  LIVED  27 

I  was  soon  possessed  with  the  desire  for  finery,  and 
forthwith  sent  North  by  a  sutler  for  gray  corduroy 
with  which  to  make  a  full  suit,  as  well  as  the  necessary 
gold  braid,  buff  trimmings,  gilt  buttons,  high  top  boots, 
gauntlets,  a  soft  hat,  and  three  ostrich  feathers  to 
match.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  dress  for  the  part  if 
it  took  my  last  dollar,  and  such  was  the  case,  for 
when  the  goods  and  baubles  arrived,  I  found  that  the 
honest  merchant  wanted  about  two  hundred  in  cash 
from  me.  I  made  a  few  trades,  juggled  my  posses 
sions  around  a  little,  and  got  the  money  together,  ad 
justing  the  account  in  a  measure,  by  charging  the  sut 
ler  five  dollars  a  pound  for  some  tobacco  that  I  hap 
pened  to  have,  which  he  wanted  badly.  I  was  quite  a 
swell  for  a  time  until  the  fellow  who  had  laughed  at 
me  at  Mr.  Ashby's  house,  on  my  first  Appearance, 
tackled  me  one  afternoon,  and  we  both  showed  the 
effect  of  the  argument. 

Mosby  encouraged  the  men  in  their  vanities,  al 
though  personally  he  favored  the  neatest  and  plainest 
of  attire.  Only  when  he  came  in  touch  with  the  Gen 
erals,  which  he  did  once  in  awhile,  did  he  make  any 
attempt  at  display  in  his  dress.  On  these  occasions  he 
always  wore  a  new  suit  of  the  best  the  tailor  could 
procure,  a  red-lined  cape,  gold  braid,  and  ostrich  plume 
in  his  hat,  as  gayly  as  did  his  men.  I  have  always  be 
lieved  that  he  did  it  for  the  purpose  of  impressing  the 
regulars  with  the  importance  of  his  Partisan  Rangers, 
in  whom  he  took  the  greatest  pride.  He  wanted  the 
army  to  think,  when  they  saw  him  in  his  finery,  that 
he  was  a  fair  sample  of  the  entire  band.  In  a  fight 


28  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA' 

a  conspicious  uniform,  a  waving  plume,  a  flashing 
sabre,  or  a  white  horse,  always  attracted  the  fire  of 
the  enemy,  and  Mosby  never  went  into  a  fight  that  his 
actions  were  not  so  conspicious  and  his  red-lined  cape 
so  prominently  displayed  that  he  drew  on  himself  a 
concentrated  fire.  I  believe  he  enjoyed  such  special 
attentions ;  not  that  he  was  reckless,  for  recklessness  is 
not  always  bravery,  but  he  was  unconsciously  brave, 
and  loved  war  for  itself;  it  was  never  "  Hell  "  to  him,* 
as  it  was  to  Sherman,  but  on  the  whole  he  rather 
looked  on  it  as  a  sort  of  martial  picnic.  If  he  had 
lived  in  France  at  the  time  of  the  Empire  he  would 
have  been  a  Field-Marshal.  If  he  had  been  at  Bala- 
klava  he  would  have  led  the  Six  Hundred.  In  his  own 
little  circumscribed  fighting  grounds, 

Where'er  wild  war's  sirocco  breath 

Its  deadliest  impress  made, 
And  revelled  midst  its  feast  of  death, 
There  flashed  his  battle  blade. 

or,  more  correctly,  there  flashed  his  smoking  Colt,  for 
he  had  positively  no  use  for  a  blade  of  any  kind. 

Whenever  we  made  a  successful  raid,  we  made  it  a 
point  to  repay  the  farmers  and  country  people  whose 
bounty  we  enjoyed,  in  live  stock  and  supplies.  The  re 
turn  from  a  sutler's  raid  was  a  holiday  occasion,  for 
everybody  got  something.  On  one  occasion  we  cap 
tured  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  fat  cattle  from  Gen 
eral  Sheridan's  supply  train,  and  we  gave  our  country 
friends  half  of  them,  dividing  them  among  all  the 
people  living  within  range. 


HOW  WE  LIVED  29 

On  one  occasion,  we  got  into  some  sutler's  stores 
at  Duffield  depot  on  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio  Railroad 
and  the  goods  were  so  tempting  that  I  concluded  to 
carry  an  assortment  back  to  our  lady  hostess  and  her 
household.  I  loaded  up  a  sack  with  all  sorts  of  use 
ful  and  ornamental  goods,  and  fastened  it  to  my  sad 
dle  securely.  Then,  going  back  into  the  store  and 
looking  around,  I  spied  some  hoop-skirts  which  the 
sutler  had  no  doubt  bought  for  some  special  order 
from  an  army  officer's  wife.  I  took  these  and  strapped 
them  to  my  saddle.  Then  I  made  another  and  final 
round  of  the  store,  and  began  stuffing  my  many  pock 
ets  with  notions,  such  as  buttons,  hair  pins,  thread, 
hooks  and  eyes,  and  the  like;  finally  I  found  a  lot  of 
papers  of  needles,  and  I  thrust  a  handful  of  these  into 
my  trousers'  pocket. 

Just  then  some  one  poked  his  head  into  the  door 
and  cried : 

"  The  Yankees  are  coming." 

We  made  a  break  for  our  horses  and  galloped  away 
with  our  plunder,  and  our  prisoners;  keeping  up  a 
pretty  fast  gait  for  some  miles  for  fear  our  burdens 
would  slacken  the  usual  speed  we  practiced  when  we 
were  retreating.  I  had  not  gone  a  mile  before  my 
papers  of  needles  began  to  come  undone  in  my  pocket, 
and  at  every  jump  of  my  horse  a  newly  released 
needle  would  remind  me  that  I  had  captured  it,  until 
at  the  end  of  our  run  I  had  dozens  of  needle  marks 
on  my  anatomy,  and  two  or  three  points  were  left 
inside,  to  work  upward  or  downward,  or  out,  as  they 
severally  saw  fit. 


30  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

I  recollect  that  I  delivered  all  my  presents  safely  to 
my  kind  friends,  except  needles,  and  I  made  no  refer 
ence  to  these  in  my  account  of  the  raid.  In  all  my  later 
raids  on  sutler's  stores  I  contented  myself  with  things 
that  were  not  likely  to  prove  troublesome,  or  stick  into 
me,  such  as  boots,  and  gloves,  and  furnishing  goods; 
but  I  ignored  needles. 

While  there  was  more  or  less  risk  in  sleeping  in 
houses  inside  the  enemy's  lines,  our  losses  were  com- 
paratively  small  from  this  cause,  as  our  men  were  al 
ways  on  the  lookout  for  reprisals  from  the  night 
raiding  parties,  who  had  learned  that  part  of  our 
tactics  and  were  continually  on  our  trail.  We  knew 
the  country  a  great  deal  better  than  the  Union  soldiers 
did  and,  in  time  of  danger,  it  was  a  simple  matter  to 
shift  our  quarters.  Whenever  there  was  an  over-sup 
ply  of  raiders  in  the  neighborhood  we  took  our  blan 
kets  or  robes  and  slept  in  the  woods  or  orchards  or 
fields  till  the  danger  was  past.  Mosby  not  infre 
quently  slept  alone  in  such  places,  but  as  he  and  I  each 
had  a  fine  buffalo  robe  it  was  my  happy  privilege 
frequently  to  snuggle  up  to  him  between  these  two 
robes,  and  "  dream  of  battle-fields  no  more." 

Mosby  sometimes  did  his  scouting  alone,  but  gen 
erally  he  was  accompanied  by  one  or  more  men,  se 
lected  because  of  their  intimate  knowledge  of  a  certain 
part  of  the  country  to  which  he  was  going.  Under 
cover  of  the  night  he  would  move  with  the  stealth  that 
would  have  put  an  Indian  to  shame.  No  sabre  was 
ever  worn  on  such  a  trip  and  if  a  spur  or  a  curb  chain 
jingled  it  was  taken  off.  A  neighing  horse  would 


HOW  WE  LIVED  31 

have  been  murdered  on  the  spot.  Our  animals  seemed 
to  know  instinctively  that  they  must  keep  still;  at  any 
rate  they  always  did  so. 

Mosby  was  the  fastest  "  scouter  "  I  ever  knew,  and 
in  the  saddle  could  cover  a  dozen  objective  points, 
over  a  course  of  fifty  miles  from  sunset  to  sunrise, 
gathering  information  of  vital  importance  at  each  halt. 
He  would  send  out  messengers  whenever  necessary 
from  any  point  wherever  it  seemed  advisable  to  do  so, 
regardless  of  the  hour  of  day  or  night,  or  the  prox 
imity  of  friend  or  foe.  I  never  knew  one  of  his  mes 
sengers  to  go  wrong.  No  one  ever  heard  of  one  of 
Mosby's  dispatches  being  captured. 

Horses,  of  course,  were  indispensable  to  Mosby's 
men.  On  whatever  else  we  were  obliged,  or  chose,  to 
stint  ourselves,  it  was  necessary  to  have  good  horses. 
Nearly  all  the  men  kept  at  least  two,  and  many  of  us 
who  rode  constantly  had  more.  The  work  was  too 
hard  for  one  horse.  I  have  known  the  Colonel  to  have 
six  at  one  time,  all  of  them  fine  animals,  but  generally 
half  his  stud  would  be  temporarily  disabled  from  hard 
riding  or  wounds.  When  we  started  on  a  scout  or  a 
raid,  his  old  colored  groom,  Aaron,  would  take  up 
from  pasture  one  or  two  of  his  horses  and  begin  to 
get  them  into  shape  for  him  by  the  time  he  returned. 
Thus  he  always  had  a  fresh  horse  to  depend  on.  Each 
man  kept  his  horses  at  the  farm-house  where  he  made 
his  home,  and  there  was  not  a  barn  or  corral  owned 
by  our  friendly  allies  that  did  not  contain  one  or  more 
of  Mosby's  cavalry  horses,  waiting  to  be  saddled  for 
a  long,  hard  ride. 


32  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

When  a  raiding  party  came  through  our  neighbor 
hood  and  the  men  were  at  their  respective  homes,  each 
would  mount  a  good  horse  and  take  the  rest  off  to 
hide  in  the  woods  till  the  raiders  passed  by.  If  we 
happened  to  be  away  the  farmers  would  hide  our 
horses  for  us,  and  instances  were  not  rare  when  the 
ladies  and  children  of  a  household  would  do  the  kindly 
office. 

Mosby's  old  negro,  Aaron,  was  fanatical  on  the 
subject  of  his  own  importance,  and  had  an  unconquer 
able  fear  of  the  Yankees.  He  used  to  tell  us  when 
we  chaffed  him  that  it  was  not  "  Mars  Jack  "  that  the 
Yankees  came  up  there  looking  for,  but  it  was 
"  Aaron,"  and  that,  if  they  could  catch  him  and  take 
him  to  Washington,  President  Lincoln  would  have  him 
handed  around  on  a  big  silver  waiter  for  all  the  peo 
ple  in  the  world  to  gaze  at.  The  moment  the  report, 
or  even  the  rumor,  came  to  headquarters  that  the 
Yankees  were  coming,  old  Aaron  would  start  off 
with  his  horses  for  the  mountains  and  we  would  not 
see  or  hear  from  him  till  after  dark,  when  he  would 
sneak  in  at  the  back  door  and  ask  the  first  one  he 
met,  "  Is  dey  gone  yet  ?  " 

Once,  as  a  joke,  Johnny  Edmonds  and  I  galloped 
into  the  barnyard  where  Aaron  was  currying  one  of 
the  Colonel's  horses  and  closed  the  big  gate  behind  us. 
We  fired  our  pistols  and  yelled  to  him  to  look  out  for 
the  Yankees.  Without  waiting  an  instant  he  mounted 
his  horse  bare  back,  jumped  the  gate  and  flew  for  the 
hills.  At  each  jump  we  fired  a  pistol  and  yelled  to 
him  to  stop,  but  he  kept  on  and  we  did  not  see  him 


HOW  WE  LIVED  33 

t 
again  till  next  morning.     He  never  quite  forgave  us 

when  he  found  out  the  facts. 

Aaron  accompanied  Mosby  in  the  regular  service  be 
fore  the  Command  was  organized.  There  was  a  fight 
near  Barbee's  cross-roads  in  Fauquier  county  in  which 
Mosby  was  engaged,  and  old  Aaron  accompanied  him 
at  an  entirely  safe  distance,  leading  one  of  his  extra 
horses.  He  sat  down  on  the  porch  of  an  old  house 
to  listen  to  the  noise  of  the  firing,  "  sniffing  the  battle 
from  afar,"  and  waiting  for  his  master  to  come  back 
and  give  him  orders.  Suddenly,  and  without  warn 
ing,  a  misdirected  shell  swept  high  over  the  old  build 
ing  and  burst  in  the  air,  a  part  of  it  striking  the  roof 
and  scattering  splinters  all  over  Aaron. 

He  jumped  upon  his  horse,  leading  the  extra  and 
much  needed  animal,  galloped  away  and  did  not  stop, 
or  make  any  perceptible  slackening  of  his  speed,  until 
he  reached  the  old  Mosby  plantation,  about  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  miles  away.  It  was  three  months  be 
fore  he  could  be  persuaded  to  return  to  the  army. 

When  my  captain,  "  Billy "  Smith,  was  killed  in 
January,  1864,  I  was  anxious  to  possess  his  favorite 
horse  and  I  purchased  him  from  Mrs.  Smith,  but  it 
was  necessary  for  me  to  sell  three  pretty  good  ones  of 
my  own  to  raise  sufficient  money  to  pay  for  him.  I 
never  complained  of  the  price,  and  was  never  sorry  I 
bought  him,  for  there  was  not  a  better  known  horse 
in  Stuart's  cavalry,  nor  a  better  war  horse  in  the 
whole  army.  My  captain  had  been  orderly-sergeant 
of  the  "  Black  Horse "  troop,  and  used  to  ride  old 
"  Champ "  in  the  regular  service ;  and  from  Stuart 


34  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

down  to  the  humblest  private  he  was  well  and  favor 
ably  known. 

Norman  Smith  was  killed  while  riding  him  in  one  of 
our  fights,  in  August,  1863,  and  his  brother,  captain 
"  Billy,"  was  also  killed  on  him  in  January,  1864. 
When  the  war  ended  I  turned  him  over  to  a  third 
brother,  Captain  Towson  Smith,  in  whose  possession 
he  died.  Some  time  after  the  war,  the  captain  wanted 
to  drive  to  church,  and  hooked  up  old  Champ  to  the 
family  carryall  and  got  into  it.  The  old  horse  looked 
around  at  it  and,  with  a  far-away  look  in  his  eyes, 
apparently  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,  kicked  the 
old  carriage  into  splinters. 

On  one  occasion  Colonel  Mosby  took  me  with  him 
on  a  trip  to  Richmond  and  we  stopped  at  General 
Stuart's  headquarters,  then  in  Orange  county,  and  left 
our  horses  with  him.  His  own  horses  were  pretty 
badly  used  up  and  we  asked  him  to  ride  ours  in  a 
fight  which  he  was  to  have  early  the  next  day.  When 
we  returned  a  few  days  afterwards,  the  General  asked 
me  if  I  would  put  a  price  on  Champ.  I  told  him  he 
would  honor  me  by  letting  me  give  the  old  fellow  to 
him,  but  he  would  not  consent  to  such  an  arrange 
ment  ;  therefore,  as  he  would  not  allow  me  to  give  him 
the  horse  and  I  would  not  let  him  buy,  he  reluctantly 
saw  me  ride  back  to  Northern  Virginia.  He  told  me 
he  had  never  enjoyed  riding  a  horse  in  a  fight  as  much 
as  he  did  old  Champ. 

The  horse  was  absolutely  controllable  in  the  hottest 
sort  of  action,  and  never  lost  his  head;  but,  as  he  had 
been  badly  shot  twice,  once  in  his  head  and  the  next 


HOW  WE  LIVED  35 

time  in  his  hip,  he  knew  the  sound  of  flying  bullets  and 
would  shake  his  old  head  and  apparently  dodge  when 
he  heard  them  going  by;  but  he  did  not  know  that 
dodging  was  unnecessary. 

Mosby  would  send  his  men  out  in  different  direc 
tions  on  individual  scouting  trips  with  orders,  perhaps, 
to  meet  him  at  a  designated  point  fifty  or  more  miles 
away.  In  this  way  he  kept  an  eye  on  the  enemy  all 
around  the  circle  and  when,  acting  on  one  of  his  men's 
reports,  he  decided  to  strike  a  blow,  he  would  take  the 
necessary  number  of  men  with  him  or  have  them  meet 
him  at  some  point  near  the  scene  of  the  expected  at 
tack  and,  after  verifying  the  man's  report  by  his  own 
actual  observation,  the  trouble  would  begin.  It  was 
his  constant  care  not  to  take  his  men  into  any  place 
that  he  could  not  bring  them  out  of,  and  they  felt 
perfectly  safe  in  following  him.  His  instructions  to 
the  various  detachments  of  his  battalion  frequently 
covered  three  days  ahead,  and  the  instances  were  very 
rare  when  he  did  not  keep  his  appointments  to  the 
hour.  He  knew  the  theatre  of  war  so  well,  and  was 
so  complete  a  master  of  his  own  work,  that  it  was  im 
possible  to  confuse  him.  He  never  lost  his  self-posses- 
son;  never  got  rattled.  If  he  could  make  a  raid  at 
midnight  it  pleased  him  greatly,  as  he  held  that  sleep 
ing  men  are  easy  to  surround,  and  that  it  required  at 
least  five  minutes  for  an  awakened  soldier  to  get  into 
shape  to  fight.  That  is  the  explanation  why  so  many 
of  Mosby's  performances  were  planned  and  came  off 
at  an  hour  of  the  night  when  most  good  people  were 
in  the  land  of  dreams;  it  also  explains  how  it  fre- 


36  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

quently  happened  that  our  men  attacked  many  times 
their  own  numbers.  Seldom  did  Mosby  return  empty 
handed  from  a  raid.  On  the  march  he  was  usually 
very  quiet  and  uncommunicative;  riding  by  himself  a 
little  ahead  of  the  Command,  apparently  plunged  in  the 
consideration  of  some  future  problem,  the  germ  of 
which  had  already  begun  to  formulate  in  his  brain.  On 
a  raid,  however,  when  his  mind  was  fully  made  up,  he 
was  the  gayest  of  us  all,  joking  and  laughing  with  the 
men  and  looking  forward  eagerly  to  the  clash  of  arms. 
On  these  occasions  he  would  direct  one  of  the  boys 
near  him  to  ride  back  down  the  line  and  bring  Jim 
Sinclair  to  the  front  to  tell  us  all  about  the  confusion 
of  the  mule  drivers;  or  to  another  one  he  would 
say,  "  Go  back  and  ask  Captain  Bill  Kennon  to  come 
up  here  and  tell  us  a  good  lie."  Captain  Bill  could 
charm  the  birds  off  their  nests  with  his  wonderful 
romancing. 

Mosby  never  took  anyone  into  his  confidence. 
When  he  got  an  idea  that  he  thought  worth  while,  he 
immediately  worked  toward  its  development.  I  do 
not  remember  ever  hearing  anybody  ask  Mosby  where 
he  was  going  or  what  his  plans  were.  One  instance 
of  his  taciturnity  will  suffice.  We  met  one  afternoon 
in  Upperville,  Virginia,  where  the  Colonel  told  Major 
Richards  to  take  the  Command  to  a  designated  place  in 
Fairfax  county  and  await  his  coming  late  that  night. 
Turning  to  me  he  said : 

"  Munson,  get  on  your  horse  and  come  with  me." 
He  was  off  at  a  trot.     I  followed  him  down  the 
Little  River  turnpike  and  caught  up  with  him,  where 


HOW  WE  LIVED  37 

we  trotted  and  galloped,  boot-leg  to  boot-leg,  for 
twenty  miles.  Not  once  did  he  look  at  me,  nor  one 
word  did  he  utter  in  all  that  ride.  He  was  planning 
one  of  those  sensational  raids  of  his,  which,  before 
the  next  sunset,  startled  Washington,  and  kept  the 
Federal  commanders  in  a  flutter  for  many  days  after 
ward.  I  thought  my  tongue  would  become  paralyzed 
from  long  disuse. 

Finally  we  drew  up  at  a  farm-house,  where  the 
Colonel  reined  his  horse  with  the  remark :  "  Let's  stop 
here  for  a  cup  of  coffee."  His  ideas  had  crystallized 
and  he  was  normal  again.  In  that  silent  gallop  he  had 
planned  a  victory.  Not  long  ago,  he  told  a  friend 
of  ours  in  New  York,  Mr.  Frank  Pemberton,  that  he 
liked  to  ride  with  me  during  the  war  because  I  did  not 
talk. 

Mosby  maintained  a  discipline  that  was  remarkable, 
considering  the  kind  of  men  who  made  up  his  Com 
mand  and  the  character  of  the  service.  Young  men, 
especially,  chafe  under  too  much  restraint;  yet  he 
made  rules  that  were  never  broken  and  established  re 
wards  which,  when  won,  were  as  highly  prized  by  his 
followers  as  the  medal  of  honor  by  the  heroes  of 
Austerlitz.  He  divided  all  captured  horses  by  lot, 
among  those  who  figured  in  the  particular  raid  in 
which  the  animals  were  secured.  Sutler's  supplies, 
army  equipment  and  personal  property  belonged  to 
the  man  brave  enough  to  take  the  risk  of  capturing 
it.  Men  who  went  alone,  or  in  small  groups,  on 
scouting  parties  divided  their  spoils  as  they  saw  fit. 
"  To  the  victor  belonged  the  spoils  "  was  a  satisfactory 


38  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

doctrine  for  Mosby,  but  during  the  whole  war  he 
never  appropriated  to  himself  as  much  as  a  halter- 
strap.  The  very  horses  he  rode  and  the  old  colored 
body-servant  who  accompanied  him  throughout  the 
campaign,  came  with  him  from  the  Mosby  home 
stead. 

Once  only  did  I  know  of  any  departure  from  this 
strict  rule  of  his  independence,  and  that  was  an  occa 
sion  when  all  his  horses  were  in  a  bad  way,  and  the* 
men  purchased  and  presented  to  him  a  splendid 
charger  which  had  belonged  to  one  of  his  officers.  He 
protested  a  great  deal,  but  the  men  insisted. 

The  men  always  assembled  at  a  designated  place  to 
go  on  a  raid,  but  it  did  not  make  any  difference  to  Mos 
by  where  they  disbanded  when  the  purpose  of  the  raid 
was  accomplished.  For  instance,  he  would  give  no 
tice  to  a  few  men  whom  he  might  meet,  to  notify  a 
given  number  of  the  Command  to  meet  him  at  a  cer 
tain  cross-roads,  or  blacksmith's  shop,  or  a  village. 
If  more  of  the  men  assembled  than  he  wanted,  he 
would  dismiss  such  as  he  did  not  need,  sometimes  send 
ing  them  on  a  scout  under  one  of  the  officers,  or  letting 
them  return  to  their  homes;  and,  taking  his  force, 
would  go  on  his  raid.  When  the  purpose  was  ac 
complished,  he  did  not  care  how  many  of  the  boys 
left  him,  or  what  became  of  them,  so  long  as  enough 
remained  to  take  care  of  the  prisoners  and  horses  and 
bring  them  out  safely.  I  have  returned  with  him 
from  a  raid  that  covered  two  or  three  days  of  almost 
constant  riding,  only  to  be  told  to  get  ready  to  start 
on  another  expedition  at  once. 


HOW  WE  LIVED  39 

In  such  cases  we  would  take  a  hurried  bath,  put  on 
clean  clothes,  get  a  fresh  horse  from  the  stable,  pocket 
a  few  extra  cartridges,  eat  something  if  it  was  ready, 
and  gallop  away.  I  used  to  think  it  was  glorious 
sport  in  those  days. 

Every  affair  in  which  Mosby  and  his  men  figured 
had  in  it  something  novel,  something  romantic,  some 
thing  which  is  worth  the  telling;  and  many  of  those 
in  which  I  took  part,  or  with  which  I  am  at  all 
familiar  through  the  stories  of  others  or  the  traditions 
of  the  Command,  will  be  mentioned  in  the  following 
pages.  I  would  like  to  tell  of  some  individual  act  of 
each  man  in  the  Command,  and  record  the  hundreds 
of  brave  deeds  I  witnessed  or  knew  of,  but  I  can  only 
repeat  what  I  once  heard  Mosby  say  when  he  was 
writing  one  of  his  reports  to  General  Stuart.  I  said 
to  him,  when  he  told  me  he  had  put  my  name  with 
three  or  four  others,  in  his  report  of  a  fight,  "  Why 

don't  you  say  something  about  and  and 

-and-  -?"  He  replied: 

"  I  can't  call  the  roll  in  every  fight,  Munson." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON 

THE   only   way   I    have   of  fixing  the   date   of 
Mosby's    first    operations   as    an    independent 
Ranger  is  his  report  to  General  Stuart,  which 
is  dated  February  4,  1863,  in  which  he  says  he  arrived* 
in  Fauquier  county  about  one  week  previously  and  had 
been  quite  actively  engaged  with  the  enemy,  capturing 
twenty-eight  prisoners  with  their  horses  and  equip- 
ments.    He  signed  the  report  "  John  S.  Mosby."    Gen 
eral  Stuart  endorsed  the  report  on  February  8,  as  fol 
lows: 

"  Respectively  forwarded  as  additional  proof  of  the 
prowess,  daring  and  efficiency  of  Mosby  (without  com 
mission)  and  his  band  of  a  dozen  followers." 

General  Stuart  made  a  little  raid  about  Christmas 
time  1862,  to  Dumfries,  and  took  Mosby  with  him. 
When  he  left  there  to  go  on  to  Fairfax  he  sent  Mosby 
ahead  and,  when  they  reached  Loudoun  county  and 
rested  for  a  day  before  returning,  Mosby  got  permis 
sion  to  remain  there  with  nine  men  of  the  First 
Virginia  Cavalry.  Among  them  was  Fount  Beattie 
who,  from  that  day  till  the  war  ended,  was  one 
of  the  best  known  men  and  one  of  the  best  men  in 
the  Command.  He  was  Mosby's  most  intimate  com 
panion  and  friend,  for  they  had  enlisted  together  when 
the  war  broke  out  and  were  never  separated. 

40 


CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON  41 

With  these  nine  men  Mosby  once  went  down  into 
Fairfax  county  and  in  two  days  captured  twenty  Yan 
kees  with  their  horses.  He  took  his  men  and  prison 
ers  back  to  Stuart's  headquarters  at  Fredericksburg 
and  the  General  was  so  pleased  with  the  result  of 
Mosby's  experiment  that  he  promised  to  let  him  go 
back  again  with  fifteen  men.  This  really  was  the  be 
ginning  of  his  Partisan  career,  for  later  when  he 
started  North  with  his  fifteen  men  he  never  again 
went  back  to  regular  army  life.  These  fifteen  men 
were  not  members  of  Mosby's  Command  for,  shortly 
after  he  took  them,  some  were  ordered  back  to  their 
regiment.  The  fact  is  that,  strictly  speaking,  Mosby 
had  no  Command  of  his  own  until  June  10,  1863, 
when  he  organized  his  first  company,  "  A."  Up  to 
that  time  the  men  he  had  in  all  his  brilliant  engage 
ments  were  volunteers.  He  utilized  every  man  who 
came  to  him.  A  hospital  at  Middleburg  served  him 
as  a  recruiting  station.  The  convalescent  men,  some 
of  them  on  crutches,  others  bandaged  and  patched  up 
in  other  ways,  would  go  with  him  on  a  raid,  make 
havoc  among  the  Yankees,  and  return  to  the  hospital 
and  get  into  their  beds.  When  the  raiding  parties 
who  followed  Mosby  up  to  that  part  of  the  country 
would  see  these  poor  wounded  rebels  in  their  beds  in 
the  hospital,  they  never  suspected  them  of  being 
"  Guerrillas  pro  tern."  On  February  27,  Mosby  had 
twenty-seven  of  these  new  recruits  with  him  in  one  of 
those  Fairfax  county  raids,  and  although  the  post  he 
attacked  was  defended  by  a  force  of  fifty  cavalrymen 
he  captured  five  men  and  thirty-nine  horses.  He 


42  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

killed  the  lieutenant  commanding,   and  three  of  his 
men. 

Out  of  these  early  volunteers  a  number  remained 
permanently  with  Mosby  and  became  actual  "  Mosby 
men,"  but  until  his  first  company  was  formed  he  never 
could  count,  with  any  degree  of  certainty,  upon  any 
given  number  of  men  responding  to  his  call  for  a  meet 
ing.  Many  of  his  volunteers  were  dismounted  cav 
alrymen  from  Stuart's  division  who  came  over  to* 
Mosby  to  get  horses  and  who  returned  to  their  regi 
ments  after  the  horses  were  secured  and  he  never  saw 
them  again.  At  every  meeting  held  for  the  first  few 
months  of  his  Partisan  career  entirely  new  faces  would 
appear  ready  for  the  fray,  and  most  of  those  with 
which,  in  a  measure,  he  had  become  familiar  on  pre 
vious  raids  would  be  missing. 

One  of  the  first  men  of  any  importance  to  join  him 
was  John  Underwood,  a  native  of  Fairfax  county. 
Two  of  John's  brothers,  Sam  and  Bush,  joined  him 
later  and  served  with  him  to  the  end  of  the  war,  but 
John  was  killed  a  few  months  after  becoming  a 
"  Guerrilla." 

These  Underwoods  knew  that  country  better  than 
the  wild  animals  that  roamed  over  it  by  night  or  by 
day,  and  they  were  Mosby's  guides  on  many  of  his 
scouts  and  raids  and  never  led  him  astray.  By  night 
or  by  day  any  of  these  boys  could  thread  his  way 
through  any  swamp  or  tangled  forest  in  Fairfax 
county,  and  personal  fear  was  a  thing  unknown  to 
them. 

Another  early  recruit  was  Billy  Hibbs,  a  blacksmith 


CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON  43 

of  Loudoun  county,  who  had  two  grown  sons  in  the 
regular  army.  By  general  consent  he  was  known 
throughout  the  entire  Command  as  "  Major  "  Hibbs, 
a  title  bestowed  on  him  in  a  joke  by  Mosby  who,  how 
ever,  had  great  respect  for  the  "  Major's  "  loyalty  and 
courage  and  ability.  Another  early  acquisition  was 
Dick  Moran.  Mosby  used  to  say  that  these  few  men 
actually  started  his  Command  into  being  and  that  the 
real  recruits  came  to  his  standard  only  after  it  bore 
their  names. 

Not  because  the  capture  of  General  Stoughton  was 
the  first  affair  of  importance  which  Mosby  accom 
plished  in  his  career  as  a  Partisan  Ranger,  is  it  re 
corded  here,  but  because  the  name  of  Mosby  inevitably 
couples  itself  with  the  event.  It  was  typical.  While 
many  other  of  his  exploits  far  exceeded  it  in  impor 
tance  to  our  side  and  in  loss  to  the  enemy,  there  was 
nothing  in  boldness  or  originality  which  surpassed  it 
during  the  entire  war;  nor  did  anything  reflect  more 
credit  on  the  little  Command  or  create  any  more  no 
toriety  than  his  capture.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  ex 
ploit  gave  Mosby  more  deserved  fame  than  any  single 
achievement  of  any  officer  or  Commander  in  either 
the  Northern  or  Southern  army  during  the  war,  and  I 
desire  to  tell  it  more  in  detail  than  do  the  official 
records. 

The  following  official  report,  which  is  given  ver 
batim,  of  the  United  States  Provost  Marshal  at  the 
Post,  makes  a  good  preface  for  my  story.  His  report 
is  much  more  accurate  than  was  usual  under  such  cir 
cumstances,  and  the  exaggeration  of  our  number  from 


44  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

thirty  to  three  hundred,  was  not  at  all  an  exceptional 
case. 

PROVOST  MARSHAL'S  OFFICE. 
FAIRFAX,  C.  H.,  Va.,  March  10,  1863. 
Colonel  Wyndham,  Commanding  Cavalry  Brigade  and 

Post. 

SIR:  On  the  night  of  the  8th  instant,  say  about 
two,  or  half  past  two,  A.  M.,  Captain  Mosby,  with  his 
Command,  entered  this  village  by  an  easterly  direction, 
then  advanced  upon  my  outer  vedette,  when  he  chal 
lenged  (no  countersign  out).  The  rebel  picket  or 
scout  advanced  presenting  at  the  same  time  two  re 
volvers  to  his  head  and  threatening  to  blow  his  brains 
out  if  he  said  a  word,  demanding  his  arms,  etc.,  when 
the  force  came  up  and  captured  every  man  on  patrol, 
with  horses,  equipments,  etc.,  until  reaching  the  Pro 
vost  Marshal's  stables,  when  they  halted  and  entered 
the  stables,  taking  every  horse  available  with  them. 
They  then  proceeded  to  Colonel  Stoughton's  stables, 
captured  his  guard,  took  his  horses  and  those  of  his 
aides;  they  then  proceeded  to  Colonel  Wyndham's 
headquarters  and  took  all  the  horses  and  movable 
property  with  them.  In  the  meantime  others  of  Cap 
tain  Mosby's  command  were  despatched  to  all  quarters 
where  officers  were  lodged,  taking  them  out  of  their 
beds,  together  with  the  telegraph  operator,  assistant, 
etc.,  etc. 

They  searched  the  Provost  Marshal's  office,  and 
finding  him  absent  went  to  the  post  hospital  and  there 
made  diligent  search  for  him,  offering  a  reward  for 
him.  The  Provost  Marshal  had  just  left  the  street, 
say  ten  minutes  before  they  entered,  and  went  across 
some  vacant  lots  to  ascertain  from  one  of  his  vedettes 
if  he  had  caught  any  horses  or  horse  thieves.  Another 
party  ten  in  number,  proceeded  to  Colonel  Stoughton's 


CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON    45 

headquarters,  taking  him  and  one  of  his  aides  named 
Prentiss,  who  afterwards  escaped  prisoners.  They 
then  proceeded  to  Colonel  Wyndham's  headquarters 
and  took  Captain  Barker  of  the  Fifth  New  York  Cav 
alry,  and  also  Baron,  Vardner,  who  was  stopping  at 
the  Colonel's.  In  the  meantime  another  party  of  them 
entered  tH  residence  of  Colonel  Johnston  and  searched 
the  house  for  him.  He  had,  previous  to  their  entering 
the  town,  heard  of  their  movements,  and,  believing 
them  to  be  the  patrol,  went  out  to  halt  them,  but  soon 
found  out  his  mistake.  He  then  entered  the  house 
again,  he  being  in  a  nude  state,  and  got  out  backwards, 
they  in  hot  pursuit  of  him.  He,  however,  evaded  them 
by  getting  under  a  barn  and  had  scarcely  concealed 
himself  when  a  guard  of  three  men  were  placed  upon 
it.  It  is  supposed  that  they  entered  our  lines  between 
Frying  Pan  and  Herndon  Station,  taking  a  diagonal 
course  to  come  in  at  the  lower  end  of  the  village.  On 
leaving  they  went  out  by  way  of  Colonel  Wyndham's 
stables  (southwest)  and  proceeded  towards  Centre- 
ville,  cutting  telegraph  wires  as  they  went  along.  I 
am  told  by  parties  who  had  seen  them  that  they  were 
some  three  hundred  strong. 
I  have  the  honor  to  remain, 

Respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

LIEUT.  D.  L.  O'CONNOR, 

Provost  Marshal. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  details,  and  I  am  in 
debted  for  them  to  Mosby's  report  of  the  affair  to 
General  Stuart,  in  the  Confederate  War  Records,  to 
his  account  of  it,  written  many  years  ago  for  publica 
tion,  and  to  the  traditions  of  our  Command,  which 
are  the  priceless  heritage  of  all  its  members. 

Mosby  started  on  his  Partisan  Ranger  career  early 


46  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

in  February,  1863,  with  fifteen  men  not  members  of 
his  Command,  for  he  had  no  Command.  They  were 
members  of  his  old  regiment,  the  First  Virginia  Cav 
alry,  and  were  loaned  to  him  by  General  Stuart.  On 
the  twenty-fifth  of  the  month,  a  deserter  from  the 
Fifth  New  York  Cavalry,  then  stationed  at  or 
near  Fairfax  Court  House,  named  Ames,  came  up 
to  join  Mosby.  Little  attention  was  paid  to  him  by 
any  of  the  men  except  by  Walter  Frankland,  who 
had  no  horse,  and  who  had  joined  Mosby  a  few 
days  previously.  Ames  told  Frankland  he  could 
lead  him  back  to  his  camp  at  Germantown  and 
get  horses  for  both  of  them  and,  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  they  started  on  foot  for  the  camp,  reach 
ing  it  at  midnight  on  the  night  of  March  first. 
They  entered  the  camp,  talked  to  the  sentinels  and,  in 
their  presence,  saddled  two  of  the  finest  horses  and 
came  back  safely  to  their  starting  point.  One  week 
afterwards,  Mosby  took  his  little  Command  of  only 
twenty-nine  men  and,  with  Ames  as  guide,  started 
from  Aldie  in  Loudoun  county,  to  enter  the  camp  at 
Fairfax  Court  House.  What  will  be  difficult  for  the 
general  reader  to  believe  is  that  Mosby,  from  the  first 
meeting  with  the  deserter  Ames,  had  confidence  in  him 
and  used  him  to  pilot  himself  and  his  little  band  into 
the  very  jaws  of  the  enemy,  not  communicating  his  in 
tention  of  going  to  the  commanding  General's  head 
quarters  to  any  of  the  men  except  to  Ames.  I  have 
already  spoken  of  Mosby's  correct  estimate  of  men 
and  of  his  unerring  judgment  in  critical  moments. 
This  case  of  Ames  was  an  illustration  of  it,  for  he 


CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON  47 

proved  worthy  of  Mosby's  confidence,  became  one  of 
the  safest  and  best  soldiers  in  our  Command,  was  later 
made  a  Lieutenant  for  gallantry  and  efficiency,  and 
was  finally  killed  in  a  fight  at  close  quarters. 

At  the  time  Ames  came  to  him,  Mosby  had  already 
determined  to  make  a  raid  on  Fairfax  Court  House 
for  he  had  gathered  information  to  warrant  it,  and  this 
Ames  verified.  This  was  only  a  month  after  Mosby 
had  started  upon  his  career  as  a  Partisan  Ranger  and 
at  the  time  he  had  made  only  a  few  experimental 
dashes  at  the  enemy.  Here  was  a  very  serious  prop 
osition  to  tackle.  Fairfax  Court  House  was  invested 
and  surrounded  by  thousands  of  soldiers  —  infantry, 
cavalry  and  artillery.  At  Centreville  a  few  miles 
away  there  was  a  brigade  of  mixed  troops  with  heavy 
artillery  in  the  works.  Another  brigade  of  cavalry 
was  located  near  Fairfax  Court  House  on  the  pike. 
The  adjacent  railroad  was  heavily  guarded  and  cav 
alry  outposts  completely  encircled  the  town  for  miles, 
extending  to  the  Potomac  river.  The  headquarters 
were  girdled  with  soldiers.  There  was  only  one  weak 
spot  in  the  entire  line  of  outposts,  and  that  was  weak 
only  in  comparison  with  the  rest.  No  man  could  have 
passed  through  any  part  of  the  lines  by  daylight,  with 
out  being  seen  by  hundreds  of  Union  soldiers. 

Mosby  knew  where  that  weak  spot  was  and,  after 
midnight,  in  a  darkness  so  intense  that  he  could  hardly 
see  a  man  ahead  of  him,  took  his  twenty-nine  men 
through  it.  Not  until  he  was  within  the  lines  and 
almost  at  the  headquarters  of  the  officers,  did  he  tell 
his  men  what  he  was  doing  and  where  he  was  going. 


48  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

At  that  early  day  there  was  already  grounded  in  them 
the  blind  faith  in  their  leader  which  continued  until 
the  end  of  the  war,  and  which  with  me  continues  to 
this  day.  Just  before  reaching  the  headquarters  he 
explained  the  situation  to  one  of  his  men,  Hunter,  and 
touched  upon  its  danger.  The  little  band  rode  into  the 
town  and  stopped  at  the  Court-House  Square,  chal 
lenged  now  and  then  by  a  picket  who  was  immediately 
quieted,  and  still  they  did  not  know  what  the  program 
was  nor  where  they  were. 

The  men  were  divided  into  squads,  each  with  its 
separate  duty  to  perform.  Some  went  to  the  stables 
to  get  the  best  horses;  others  to  the  officers'  quarters 
to  capture  them;  all  of  them  with  orders  to  return  to 
the  square  when  their  allotted  tasks  were  completed. 
General  Stoughton  and  Colonel  Wyndham,  the  latter 
commanding  the  cavalry,  were  the  principal  game 
sought  by  Mosby.  He  had  been  annoying  the  troops 
about  Fairfax  in  the  few  weeks  he  had  been  operating 
in  that  country,  and  Wyndham  had  sent  him  some 
impudent  messages.  Mosby  was  anxious  to  take  him 
out  of  his  bed,  but  the  Colonel  had  gone  by  rail  to 
Washington  the  afternoon  before,  and  so  Mosby 
missed  him.  When  Ames  with  a  few  men  went  to 
Wyndham's  quarters  and  found  that  the  bird  had 
flown  they  stripped  his  apartments  of  all  his  valuable 
effects  and  took  all  the  fine  horses  in  the  stables.  It 
fell  to  the  lot  of  Ames  to  capture  his  former  captain, 
Barker,  of  the  Fifth  New  York.  What  the  feelings 
of  a  deserter  under  the  circumstances  were  must  be 
left  to  the  imagination,  but  he  treated  his  old  superior 


CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON  49 

with  great  respect  and  deference,  and  took  special 
pleasure  in  presenting  him  to  Mosby. 

While  the  men  were  scattered  about  the  town  per 
forming  their  respective  tasks,  Mosby,  with  a  few  men, 
had  looked  up  Stoughton's  headquarters  and  knock 
ing  at  the  door  they  were  admitted  by  an  officer, 
Lieutenant  Prentiss,  en  deshabille.  Mosby  took  him 
gently  by  the  collar  and,  in  a  whisper,  ordered  him  to 
show  him  where  Stoughton  was.  On  reaching  the 
General's  room  that  officer  was  found  asleep  in  bed 
and,  as  time  was  precious,  Mosby  unceremoniously 
woke  him  up  by  spanking  him  on  his  bare  skin.  The 
General  was  properly  horrified  at  such  a  liberty  and, 
when  asked  if  he  ever  heard  of  Mosby,  quickly  an 
swered, 

"  Yes ;  have  you  got  him  ?  " 

Mosby  replied, 

"  No,  but  he  has  got  you." 

The  General  was  made  to  dress  in  a  hurry  and, 
with  his  aide,  Lieutenant  Prentiss,  taken  down  stairs 
and  outside  where  two  of  our  men  were  waiting,  hav 
ing  in  the  meantime  taken  a  lot  of  seven  couriers  and 
their  horses.  Hunter  was  given  special  instructions 
to  guard  the  General  at  all  hazards,  and  the  little 
squad  started  toward  the  Court-House  Square  which 
was  the  rendezvous  for  the  whole  band. 

All  the  squads  had  done  their  allotted  work  well 
and  Mosby  started  off  with  one  hundred  prisoners  and 
horses.  In  the  darkness  a  few  of  the  prisoners  es 
caped.  Passing  a  dwelling  in  the  town  the  men  were 
halted  by  a  voice  at  a  window  inquiring,  in  an  au- 


50  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

thoritative  tone,  who  they  were.  Two  of  Mosby's 
men,  Joe  Nelson  and  Welt  Hatcher,  were  sent  into  the 
house  to  bring  the  man  out,  but  he  took  the  alarm 
and  escaped  by  the  back  door  in  his  night-shirt. 
It  was  Lieutenant  Colonel  Johnston,  of  the  Fifth 
New  York,  and  it  was  said  that  he  hid  under  the  floor 
of  a  house  in  the  garden.  In  the  morning  he  got  his 
men  together  and  started  in  pursuit  of  Mosby  but  took 
the  wrong  direction. 

To  get  his  men  out  of  the  trouble  into  which  it 
had  been  so  easy  to  get,  wras  now  Mosby's  care,  for  he 
always  looked  after  that  part  of  his  exploits.  The 
troops  in  the  town  were  apprised  of  his  presence,  but 
each  man  of  them  seemed  to  be  looking  out  for  him 
self,  and  there  was  no  concert  of  action.  Mosby 
started  towards  Fairfax  Station  to  throw  his  pursuers 
off  guard,  and  then  suddenly  turned  off  towards  Cen- 
treville.  To  pass  that  point  meant  a  great  deal  to  him. 
The  heavy  guns  looked  down  frowningly  on  him  only  a 
few  hundred  feet  away,  and  the  sentinels  on  the  works, 
with  "  Who  goes  there  ?  "  halted  him  as  he  passed  un 
der  them;  but  he  made  no  reply.  Silently  the  little 
troop  passed  along  by  the  big  guns  of  the  forts  with 
their  prisoners,  and  vanished  into  the  darkness.  Cap 
tain  Barker  made  a  dash  towards  the  fort  but  was 
shot  at  by  one  of  the  men  and  recaptured,  just  as  his 
horse  fell  into  a  ditch. 

One  more  serious  danger  confronted  Mosby.  Cub 
Run,  just  beyond  Centreville,  was  overflowing.  Back 
of  the  little  band  was  the  fort  with  its  brigade  of  sol 
diers,  soon  to  be,  if  not  already,  alarmed;  in  front  of 


CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON    51 

them  a  raging  torrent.  There  was  not  an  instant  of 
hesitation  but,  plunging  into  the  mad  stream,  the 
whole  party  swam  safely  across,  though  many  were 
carried  down  stream  with  the  current.  Once  on  the 
other  side  pursuit  seemed  impossible  and,  as  the  sun 
rose  above  the  eastern  horizon,  Mosby  breathed  his 
first  sigh  of  relief.  Even  at  that  hour  he  knew  he  had 
graven  his  name  in  history  never  to  be  effaced.  He 
had  performed  another  feat  entirely  new  in  the  an 
nals  of  war  and  one  that  has  never  been  repeated.  In 
time  he  reached  Culpeper  Court-House  and  turned  his 
prisoners  over  to  General  Fitzhugh  Lee,  who  was  a 
class-mate  of  Stoughton's  at  West  Point. 

On  the  Federal  side  the  result  of  this  brilliant  affair 
of  Mosby's  was  the  early  resignation  of  Stoughton 
from  the  army.  His  reputation  was  gone.  A  Gen 
eral  must  not  be  captured  in  his  night-shirt.  Colonel 
Percy  Wyndham  was  relieved  and  his  successor,  fail 
ing  to  wipe  out  Mosby,  was  soon  transferred.  Colonel 
Johnston  soon  retired  from  army  life.  On  the  other 
hand  General  Stuart  issued  the  following  General  Or 
der,  and  Mosby,  about  a  month  later,  was  promoted 
to  a  Majority. 

GENERAL   ORDER. 

Captain  John  S.  Mosby  has  for  a  long  time  attracted 
the  attention  of  his  Generals  by  his  boldness,  skill  and 
success,  so  signally  displayed  in  his  numerous  forays 
upon  the  invaders  of  his  native  state. 

None  know  his  daring  enterprise  and  'dashing  hero 
ism  better  than  those  foul  invaders,  though  strangers 
themselves  to  such  noble  traits. 


52  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

His  late  brilliant  exploit,  the  capture  of  General 
Stoughton,  U.  S.  A.,  two  captains,  thirty  other  pris 
oners,  together  with  their  arms,  equipments  and  fifty- 
eight  horses,  justifies  this  recognition  in  General  Or 
ders.  The  feat,  almost  unparalleled  in  the  war,  was 
performed  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy's  troops,  at  Fair 
fax  C.  H.,  without  loss  or  injury. 

The  gallant  band  of  Captain  Mosby  share  the  glory 
as  they  did  the  danger  of  this  enterprise,  and  are 
worthy  of  such  a  leader. 

J.  E.  B.  STUART, 
Brigadier-General,  Commanding. 

The  Chantilly  fight,  which  occurred  on  the  twenty- 
third,  scarcely  two  weeks  later,  while  Mosby  still  had 
only  these  migratory  volunteers  with  him,  was  as  well 
conducted  as  though  it  were  the  work  of  veterans.  He 
had  gathered  about  fifty  of  them  together  and  taken 
them  down  into  Fairfax  county  to  "  do  something/' 
His  previous  attacks  had  so  aroused  the  camps  in  that 
part  of  the  country  that  everyone  was  on  the  lookout 
for  him.  He  tried  to  get  through  their  lines  into 
their  rear,  in  order  to  surprise  them,  but  they  were  too 
wide-awake.  The  men  he  had  with  him  wanted  to 
fight,  but  they  were  more  eager  to  capture  some  horses. 
The  magnet  of  spoils  attracted  every  man  to  Mosby's 
standard  in  that  early  day. 

Sweet  is  revenge,  especially  to  women ; 
Pillage  to  soldiers,  and  prize-money  to  seamen. 

Rather  than  disappoint  his  men  by  returning  home  he 
concluded  to  try  to  draw  the  enemy  out  on  the  pike  and 
trust  to  getting  a  running  fight.  He  sent  a  few  men 


CAPTURE  OF  GENERAL  STOUGHTON  53 

out  in  sight,  and  the  ruse  was  successful.  They  drove 
in  the  pickets  and  were  immediately  chased  back  up  the 
pike,  in  which  several  of  them  were  killed  and  cap 
tured.  The  noise  of  the  firing  brought  out  the  re 
serves,  and  Mosby  hurried  over  to  head  them  off  and 
prevent  being  cut  off  himself,  for  he  knew  re-enforce 
ments  would  soon  arrive.  He  retreated  up  the  pike 
in  a  trot,  and  was  followed  by  the  Fifth  New 
York.  When  he  came  to  a  little  piece  of  woods  he 
halted  his  men  and  faced  his  pursuers.  Just  as  they 
came  in  sight  he  ordered  a  charge  and  his  men  dashed 
into  them.  Utterly  astonished  and  confused,  they 
turned  and,  rushing  back  down  the  pike,  ran  into 
their  re-enforcements,  who  in  turn  also  retreated.  It 
was  a  senseless,  inexcusable  rout,  for  they  were  four 
to  Mosby's  one. 

His  men  never  questioned  the  safety  or  the  danger 
of  the  charge:  Mosby  ordered  them  to  charge  an 
attacking  force,  and  that  order  was  sufficient,  for  they 
had  seen  him  win  in  every  affair  in  which  they  had 
been  engaged  and  they  believed  he  could  do  no  wrong. 
He  never  stood  still  and  accepted  an  attack.  His  men 
chased  the  flying  enemy  several  miles,  leaving  a  num 
ber  of  killed  and  wounded  in  the  road,  and  bringing 
out  thirty-six  prisoners  and  fifty  horses.  His  men 
were  happy,  for  there  was  a  horse  for  each  man;  and 
Mosby  was  the  happiest  of  all,  for  his  little  band,  to 
a  man,  had  behaved  gloriously,  and  he  had  not  lost 
one.  "  Major  "  Hibbs  was  uncontrollable  in  his  joy 
and,  to  emphasize  it,  Mosby  publicly  proclaimed  him 
the  "  hero  of  the  fight,"  in  the  presence  of  all  the  men, 


54  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

and  gave  him  a  fine  horse  as  a  reward.  By  turns  he 
laughed  and  cried  and  finally  he  said :  "  Well,  Captain, 
I  knew  the  work  had  to  be  done,  and  that  was  the  only 
way  to  do  it." 

When  the  affair  was  reported  to  Stuart,  he  sent  back 
this  reply: 

HEADQUARTERS  CAVALRY  DIVISION, 
ARMY  OF  NORTHERN  VIRGINIA,  March  27th,  1863. 
CAPTAIN  :     Your  telegram   announcing  your  bril 
liant  achievement  near  Chantilly  was  duly  received  and 
forwarded  to  General  Lee.     He  exclaimed  upon  read 
ing  it :  "  Hurrah  for  Mosby !     I  wish  I  had  a  hundred 
like  him."     Heartily  wishing  you  continued  success, 
I  remain  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  E.  B.  STUART, 
Major-General,  Commanding. 
Captain  John  S.  Mosby,  Commanding,  etc. 

No  man  was  prouder  of  Mosby's  achievements  than 
General  Stuart.  Not  two  months  before  that  time 
Mosby  the  scout  had  left  headquarters  with  a  little 
handful  of  borrowed  men  on  a  dangerous  experiment. 
Now  he  was  a  Captain  and  a  proved  success  as  a 
leader.  Stuart  took  part  of  the  credit  for  making  it 
possible  to  develop  such  a  raider. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  FIGHT  AT  MISKELI/S  BARN 

THE  capture  of  General  Stoughton  so  early  in 
Mosby's  career  as  a  Partisan  Ranger  whetted 
the  appetite  of  the  people  for  more  of  his  bril 
liant  achievements  and  when,  three  weeks  later,  they 
heard  of  his  fight  at  Miskell's  barn,  there  was  no  limit 
to  their  amazement  and  enthusiasm.  Like  the  Stough 
ton  affair  it  was  never  repeated  for  he  never  permitted 
the  possibility  of  it  to  occur  again.  It  took  place  on 
April  i,  1863,  appropriately  enough,  for  it  proved  to 
be  a  sad  April  fool  joke  upon  the  enemies  who  had 
planned  Mosby's  capture. 

On  the  previous  day  Mosby,  at  that  time  a  Captain, 
had  been  scouting  through  Fairfax  and  Loudoun  coun 
ties  with  his  men,  arriving  at  Miskell's  farm  near 
Dranesville  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  tired,  hungry  and 
utterly  exhausted.  Supper  was  eaten  by  some  of  the 
men  fortunate  enough  to  get  it,  and  the  horses  were 
unsaddled  and  unbridled  and  tied,  some  in  the  barn, 
and  others  to  the  fences  that  surrounded  it.  The  men 
tumbled  in  upon  the  hay  and  under  the  eaves  outside 
the  barn,  falling  asleep  instantly.  Not  one  of  the 
horses  was  saddled  or  bridled,  and  the  thought  of  fight 
ing  was  far  from  all. 

Early  the  next  morning  some  of  the  men  noticed  the 
55 


56  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Federal  troops  across  the  Potomac  river  signaling  and 
called  Mosby's  attention  to  it.  It  is  strange  that  a 
Command  usually  so  alert  should  have  been  taken  so 
completely  by  surprise,  but  it  is  true  that  before  Mosby 
could  express  an  opinion  about  the  signals,  Dick 
Moran,  one  of  our  men  who  had  been  in  the  neighbor 
hood  with  friends  and  who  was  doing  a  little  looking 
out  on  his  own  hook,  galloped  into  the  barn-yard, 
yelling  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Mount  your  horses ; 
the  Yankees  are  coming." 

Moran's  voice  served  to  awaken  some  of  the  men 
who  were  still  sleeping  when  the  alarm  came.  Before 
they  could  arouse  themselves  or  throw  a  saddle  on  a 
horse,  in  fact  before  most  of  them  had  lifted  their 
weary  heads  from  the  ground,  two  hundred  of  the 
First  Vermont  Cavalry,  under  Captain  Flint, 
charged  through  the  farm  gate  which  opened  into 
the  road  and  surrounded  the  barn-yard,  pouring 
their  fire  in  volleys  into  Mosby's  men.  It  looked  as 
though  the  light  and  life  of  the  Guerrillas  must  be 
swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Never  before  or 
after  had  the  Federal  troops  such  another  chance  to 
secure  Mosby  and  wipe  out  his  men.  They  were  three 
or  more  to  his  one,  and  they  had  him  corralled  in  a 
perfect  trap,  as  perfect  as  they  could  possibly  have 
made  it.  The  first  shots  brought  every  member  of 
the  Command  out  of  the  barn  half  awake,  wondering 
what  had  happened. 

In  an  open  space  in  the  barn-yard  stood  Mosby  on 
foot:  in  each  hand  holding  a  smoking  Colt.  As  soon 
as  a  handful  of  his  men  gathered  around  him  he  or- 


THE  FIGHT  AT  MISKEL'S  BARN        57 

dered  them  to  mount  and  "  Charge  'em :  charge  'em, 
and  go  through  'em."  A  movement  of  his  hand  in 
dicated  that  he  did  not  care  just  where  the  charge  was 
made,  only  that  he  wanted  his  men  to  get  into  the  open 
where  he  could  handle  them.  He  made  no  reckoning 
of  the  numbers  of  the  enemy;  he  gave  it  no  thought; 
he  only  knew  that  he  and  his  men  were  in  a  trap  and 
he  did  not  intend  they  should  be  murdered  like  a  lot 
of  sheep  in  the  shambles,  if  grit  and  ammunition  held 
out.  No  thought  of  the  disparity  in  numbers  nor  of 
their  apparently  desperate  situation  checked  the  im 
petuosity  of  the  little  band  for  an  instant.  They 
knew  only  one  word:  "Fight."  The  next  instant 
Mosby  was  in  the  saddle.  Harry  Hatcher,  seeing  him 
on  foot,  insisted  on  giving  up  his  horse,  which  Mosby 
at  once  mounted;  and  the  Mosby  yell  to  which  no 
person  has  yet  been  able  to  do  full  justice,  rose  on  the 
wings  of  that  memorable  morning. 

Under  the  furious  fire  of  the  Vermonters  most  of 
the  men  saddled  and  bridled  their  horses,  and  mount 
ing  them,  made  a  dash  for  Captain  Flint's  men.  Like 
an  avalanche  the  Guerrillas,  with  Mosby  at  their  head, 
rushed  through  the  barn-yard  gate  and  into  the  thick 
of  the  enemy,  plying  their  revolvers  with  deadly  ef 
fect.  Every  shot  seemed  to  drop  a  Yankee  from  his 
saddle,  so  fast  did  they  fall.  In  the  panic  that  fol 
lowed  Mosby's  unexpected  and  audacious  counter 
charge,  Flint's  men  retreated  to  the  gate  leading  into 
the  turnpike  and  became  jammed  in  a  mass  at  the 
exit.  Most  of  Mosby's  men,  being  mounted  by  this 
time,  poured  a  withering  fire  into  the  struggling,  curs- 


58  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

ing,  howling  mob  packed  at  the  gate.  When  an  open 
ing  was  made  Flint  tried  gallantly  to  rally  his  troopers 
but  fell  mortally  shot  in  the  effort,  his  body  pierced 
by  six  bullets;  fitting  tribute  to  his  courage,  and  evi 
dence  of  the  Mosby  tactics,  which  always  was  to  try  to 
kill  the  man  in  command. 

Nothing  could  now  gather  the  remnant  of  the  panic- 
stricken  troop  together,  and  the  rout  began.  Mosby 
following  some  of  the  flying  Vermonters  for  miles 
down  the  pike,  while  others  scattered  in  different  di 
rections.  By  all  the  rules  of  war,  Flint's  men,  num 
bering  more  than  three  to  Mosby's  one  and  completely 
surprising  him,  should  have  annihilated  his  entire 
force.  The  Rangers  were  completely  entrapped  in  a 
corral  with  only  one  exit;  not  a  single  man  with  the 
exception  of  Dick  Moran  was  mounted,  and  most  of 
them  were  asleep.  Notwithstanding  these  facts  one 
sentence  sums  up  Mosby's  report,  the  report  of  a 
miracle.  "  Our  loss  was  four  men  wounded ;  one  of 
whom  died  later."  The  enemy's  loss  required  more 
space  in  the  report  in  summing  it  up  as  follows: 
"  Ten  killed  and  fifteen  mortally  or  dangerously 
wounded  and  left  on  the  field  and  counted  by  us. 
Eighty-four  prisoners  and  one  hundred  horses  cap 
tured;  among  the  prisoners  a  number  were  found  to 
be  wounded." 

William  H.  Chapman,  who  afterwards  became 
Lieutenant-Colonel  of  our  battalion  and  second  in  com 
mand  to  Mosby,  was  a  volunteer  that  day.  He  held 
a  commission  as  Captain  of  artillery  and  was  in  our 
part  of  the  country  on  recruiting  service.  He  was 


THE  FIGHT  AT  MISKEL'S  BARN        59 

one  of  the  first  to  get  into  action  although  he  had  to 
rush  from  the  farm-house  to  the  barn  to  saddle  his 
horse.  Through  the  cracks  in  the  barn  he  could  see 
the  Yankees  surrounding  the  side  of  it  and,  though 
the  temptation  to  pick  off  a  few  of  them  was  great,  he 
thought  Mosby's  men  should  put  on  a  bold  front,  and 
accordingly  he  mounted  and  galloped  out  of  the  barn, 
and  with  a  few  others  who  were  mounted,  dashed 
through  the  gate  which  was  held  open  by  John  Farrar, 
who  was  on  foot. 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  the  fray  immediately  and 
encountered  his  first  man  at  close  range.  The  pistols 
were  not  a  foot  apart.  The  Yankee's  pistol 'snapped 
but  Chapman's  did  its  deadly  work.  He  fired  six 
shots  and  emptied  five  saddles. 

On  one  occasion  I  begged  him  to  tell  me  about  that 
fight.  He  had  nothing  to  say  about  his  own  behavior, 
and  I  was  forced  to  hear  it  from  others.  Explaining 
Flint's  awful  mistake  and  the  poor  showing  his  men 
made  under  fire,  he  said,  however,  that  our  men  were 
fresh  from  a  good  night's  sleep  on  comfortable,  sweet 
smelling  hay,  while  Flint  had  been  marching  all  night 
from  Dranesville  to  Miskell's  in  the  face  of  a  cold 
wind,  which  was  so  benumbing  that  some  of  the  men 
could  hardly  use  their  pistols.  Chapman  should  have 
been  named  Charity.  Our  men  were  probably  just  as 
numb  when  they  woke  up  that  morning  as  were  Flint's, 
and  if  the  cold  night  had  not  made  them  so  the  sight  of 
that  crowd  of  blue-coats  around  the  barn-yard  fence 
was  enough.  Furthermore,  Mosby  had  given  his  men 
a  march  of  forty  miles  the  day  before  through  mud 


60  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

and  snow  and  slush,  and  a  night's  rest  had  done  very 
little  to  restore  them  to  their  normal  condition. 

Sam  Chapman,  a  brother  of  William  H.,  was  an 
other  conspicuous  figure  in  the  fight  at  Miskell's  barn. 
I  can  not  refrain  from  inserting  here  an  extract  con 
cerning  him,  from  Colonel  Mosby's  pen : 

"  There  was  with  me  that  day  a  young  artillery 
officer,  Samuel  F.  Chapman  who,  at  the  first  call  of  his 
state  to  arms,  had  quit  the  study  of  divinity  and  be 
came,  like  Stonewall  Jackson,  a  sort  of  military  Calvin, 
singing  the  psalms  of  David  as  he  went  into  battle. 
I  must  confess  that  his  character  as  a  soldier  was  more 
on  the  model  of  the  Hebrew  prophets  than  the  Apos 
tles,  or  the  Baptist  in  whom  he  was  so  devout  a  be 
liever.  Before  he  got  to  the  gate  Sam  had  already 
exhausted  every  barrel  of  his  two  pistols  and  drawn 
his  sabre.  As  the  fiery  Covenanter  rode  on  his  pre 
destined  course,  the  enemy's  ranks  withered  wherever 
he  went.  He  was  just  in  front  of  me.  He  was  gen 
erally  in  front  of  everybody  in  a  fight.  At  the  gate, 
it  was  no  fault  of  the  Union  cavalry  that  they  did  not 
get  through  any  faster  than  they  did,  but  Sam  seemed 
to  think  it  was.  Even  at  that  supreme  moment  in  my 
life,  when  I  had  just  stood  on  the  brink  of  ruin  and 
had  barely  escaped,  I  could  not  restrain  a  propensity 
to  laugh.  Sam,  to  give  more  vigor  to  his  blows,  was 
standing  straight  up  in  his  stirrups,  dealing  them  right 
and  left  with  all  the  theological  fervor  of  Burly  of 
Balfour.  I  made  him  a  Captain  for  it." 

On  the  following  day  United  States  troops  were 
sent  up  to  Miskell's  to  bury  the  dead  and  gather  up  the 


THE  FIGHT  AT  MISKEL'S  BARN       61 

wounded.  A  hospital  was  established  there  to  care  for 
those  who  were  so  seriously  injured  that  their  removal 
was  impossible.  The  surgeon  reported  to  Washing 
ton  that  a  large  number  among  those  who  escaped 
were  found  to  have  wounds. 

Major  General  Julius  Stahel,  U.  S.  A.,  commanding 
a  cavalry  division,  in  reporting  this  fight  to  Major- 
General  Heintzelman,  wrote  as  follows : 

"  Captain  Flint  took  his  men  through  the  gate  and 
fired  a  volley  at  Mosby  and  his  men,  doing  slight  dam 
age,  and  then  ordered  a  sabre  charge  which  was  also 
ineffectual.  Mosby  waited  until  his  men  were  checked 
by  the  fence,  and  then  opened  his  fire  on  them.  The 
men  here  became  panic-stricken  and  fled  precipitately 
towards  the  gate  through  which  to  make  their  escape. 
The  opening  was  small  and  they  got  wedged  together. 

A  fearful  state  of  confusion  followed,  while  Mosby's 
men  followed  them  up  and  poured  into  the  crowd  a 
serious  fire.  I  regret  to  be  obliged  to  inform  the  Com 
manding  General  that  the  forces  sent  out  by  Major 
Taggart  missed  so  good  an  opportunity  of  capturing 
this  rebel  Guerrilla.  It  is  only  to  be  ascribed  to  the 
bad  management  on  the  part  of  the  officers  and  the 
cowardice  of  the  men.  I  have  ordered  Colonel  Price 
to  make  a  thorough  investigation  of  the  matter,  and 
shall  recommend  those  officers  who  are  guilty  to  be 
stricken  from  the  rolls." 

Mosby  reported  the  affair  promptly  to  both  Generals 
Lee  and  Stuart,  and  General  Lee  issued  the  following 
order : 


62  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

HEADQUARTERS,  April  4,  1863. 

MR.  PRESIDENT:  Major  John  S.  Mosby  reported 
that  he  was  attacked  early  on  the  morning  of  the  ist 
inst,  near  Dranesville,  by  about  two  hundred  Vermont 
Cavalry.  He  promptly  repulsed  them,  leaving  on  the 
field  twenty-five  killed  and  wounded,  including  three 
officers,  and  brought  off  eighty-two  prisoners  with 
their  horses,  arms  and  equipment.  His  force  con 
sisted  of  sixty- four  men,  and  his  loss  was  four  wound 
ed.  I  had  the  pleasure  to  send  by  return  courier  to 
Major  Mosby  his  commission  of  Major  of  Partisan 
Rangers,  for  which  I  am  obliged  to  your  Excellency. 

I  am  with  great  respect 

Your  obedient  servant, 

R.  E.  LEE,  General. 
To  His  Excellency,  President  Davis, 

President  Confederate  States  of  America. 

At  the  time  that  this  fight  occurred  Mosby  had  not 
been  quite  two  months  engaged  in  Partisan  Ranger 
warfare,  but  he  had  amply  demonstrated  to  his  Gen 
erals  that  he  was  the  man  for  this  peculiar  work. 

Two  such  achievements  as  the  capture  of  Stoughton 
and  the  victory  at  Miskell's,  with  a  mere  handful  of 
newly  acquired  men  and  within  three  weeks  of  each 
other,  stamped  him  as  a  phenomenal  leader;  a  man 
with  magnetism  to  attract  to  himself  the  right  sort 
of  followers  for  his  unique  work  and  to  impart  that 
force  to  them  when  once  they  had  come  under  his  spell. 
I  cannot  conceive  of  any  of  the  noted  Generals  or 
Colonels  of  either  army  carrying  through  successfully, 
with  a  detachment  of  men,  two  such  affairs  as  these. 

They   were   both   to   become   classics   in    Partisan 


THE  FIGHT  AT  MISKEL'S  BARN       63 

Ranger  warfare  though  entirely  different  in  kind,  and 
Mosby's  men,  flushed  with  their  victories  redoubled 
their  energies,  and  for  two  years  following  made  his 
tory  that  will  last  when  the  stories  of  big  battles  and 
retreats  and  victories  are  forgotten.  There  were 
hundreds  of  regiments  and  brigades  and  divisions,  but 
there  was  only  one  Mosby's  Command. 

In  the  official  report  of  the  fight  at  Miskell's  the 
Federal  officer  said,  "  Lieutenant  Grout  mortally 
wounded ;  will  die  to-morrow."  But  Lieutenant  Grout 
did  not  die.  In  1896,  on  account  of  this  wound,  he 
was  nominated  as  Republican  candidate  for  Governor 
of  Vermont.  At  the  time  of  President  McKinley's 
first  inauguration  Colonel  Mosby  saw  by  the  papers 
that  Governor  Grout,  his  family  and  his  staff  were  at 
the  Arlington  hotel.  Sam  Chapman,  who  took  such 
an  enviable  part  in  the  Miskell  fight,  was  with  Colonel 
Mosby  in  Washington  at  this  time,  and  together  they 
called  upon  Governor  Grout  at  the  Arlington,  sent 
up  their  cards,  and  soon  the  Governor,  his  wife,  son 
and  staff  received  them  most  cordially. 

Not  long  after  that  Colonel  Mosby  was  badly  in 
jured  in  Charlottesville,  Va.,  by  a  horse  and,  while 
lying  in  bed,  received  a  very  kind  letter  from  Governor 
Grout.  He  reminded  the  Colonel  of  something  which 
he  had  forgotten.  After  the  fight  at  Miskell's  was 
over  Mosby  went  into  a  house  into  which  all  the 
wounded  had  been  brought,  and  Lieutenant  Grout,  se 
verely  wounded,  asked  him  to  let  two  of  his  Vermont 
soldiers  remain  there  as  nurses.  Mosby  let  him  select 
two  from  among  the  prisoners  who  remained. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WARRENTON  JUNCTION  AND  CATLETT's  STATION 

ON  a  bright  spring  morning,  May  3rd,  1863, 
Mosby  took  his  one  hundred  men  down  to 
Warrenton  Junction,  on  the  old  Orange  and 
Alexandria  railroad,  now  the  main  line  of  the  South 
ern,  and  ran  into  a  hundred  or  more  of  the  First  Vir 
ginia  Cavalry,  Federal.  I  say  we  ran  into  them,  but 
the  fact  is  we  slipped  in  and  found  the  Yankees  lolling 
around  the  station,  some  asleep,  some  idling,  all  unpre 
pared  for  the  suddenness  with  which  wre  rushed  them. 
There  was  a  wild  scattering  in  different  directions,  but 
the  main  body  took  refuge  in  a  large  building  nearby 
and  refused  to  surrender,  defending  their  position  with 
a  shower  of  bullets  fired  from  cracks  and  windows. 
Finally  Mosby  decided  to  smoke  them  out,  and  ordered 
that  the  building  be  set  on  fire,  but  some  of  our  men 
under  cover  of  the  trees  got  near  the  entrance,  made 
a  bold  dash  for  it,  and  broke  the  door  down.  The 
whole  crowd  capitulated  at  once  and  Mosby  gathered 
them  in  as  prisoners. 

In  the  meantime  the  Fifth  New  York,  and  the 
First  Vermont  Cavalry,  encamped  at  Cedar  Run 
a  short  distance  away,  had  heard  the  firing  and 
came  up  on  the  run.  This  overwhelming  force 
turned  the  tables  on  us  with  a  vengeance.  They 


WARRENTON  JUNCTION  65 

chased  us  in  a  running  fight  towards  Warrenton,  re 
captured  most  of  their  prisoners  and  horses,  and  made 
it  generally  disagreeable  for  the  Partisan  Rangers. 
They  killed  a  scout  named  Templeton,  a  member  of  the 
regular  army  who  had  volunteered  with  our  Command 
that  day.  We  also  lost  about  twenty  of  our  men 
wounded  and  taken  prisoners.  The  killed  on  the  other 
side  were  Major  Steele,  of  the  First  Virginia  and 
one  private.  Ten  of  their  men  were  wounded. 
Of  the  Fifth  New  York,  Captain  Krom  was  se 
verely  wounded,  and  Lieutenants  Frank  A.  Mon- 
son,  and  McBride  were  wounded,  but  not  dan 
gerously.  Our  men  succeeded  in  getting  away  with 
ten  prisoners  and  their  horses.  Among  our  wounded 
and  captured  was  Captain  Sam  Ducheane,  a  sol 
dier  of  fortune,  who  had  served  under  Walker  in 
his  Nicaragua  expedition  before  the  war.  Another 
was  Dick  Moran,  who  gave  the  alarm  to  Mosby  at 
Miskell's  barn  on  April  ist,  just  one  month  before; 
and  still  another  was  Tom  Richards  who  captured 
Major  Forbes  in  the  fight  at  Mount  Zion  Church  on 
July  6th,  1864,  .and  who  became  one  of  the  most  con,- 
spicious  members  of  our  Command  and  was  made 
Captain  for  bravery. 

This  engagement  was  a  most  disastrous  one  for 
Mosby.  The  loss  of  twenty  men  wounded  and  cap 
tured,  where  only  one  hundred  were  engaged,  was 
something  serious  and  unprecedented. 

While  writing  the  account  of  this  fight  at  War- 
renton  Junction  I  had  a  letter  from  Captain  Elmer 
Barker,  of  the  Fifth  New  York,  suggesting  that  I 


66  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

get  Captain  Frank  A.  Monson,  of  the  same  regiment, 
to  tell  me  something  about  the  fight  from  the  other 
side.  I  opened  a  correspondence  with  Captain  Mon- 
son,  who  is  a  business  man  of  New  Haven,  Conn., 
which  has  resulted  in  the  following  interesting  story: 

"  Sunday  morning,  'May  3rd,  1863,  found  the  Fifth 
New  York  Cavalry  encamped  about  one  quarter 
of  a  mile  north  of  Warrenton  Junction.  For  four 
or  five  days  previous  to  the  above  date  we  had 
scoured  the  country  for  many  miles  looking  for  Mos- 
by's  men,  having  been  to  Upperville,  Salem,  The 
Plains,  Rectortown,  Aldie,  and  Middleburg  without 
finding  them. 

"  The  First  Virginia  Federal  Cavalry  was  en 
camped  at  Warrenton  Junction.  Both  regiments  were 
taking  it  rather  easy  after  the  five  days  of  scout 
ing.  Many  of  the  horses  were  grazing  in  the  field. 
It  was  about  six  o'clock  and  we  could  hear  the 
booming  of  the  guns  at  Chancellorsville.  There  was 
some  cheering  up  at  the  Junction.  At  first  we  thought 
there  was  good  news  from  the  battle  but  the  shots  that 
followed  told  us  that  the  First  Virginia  had  been  at 
tacked. 

"  We  jumped  for  our  horses,  which  were  unsaddled, 
and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  the  First 
Virginia  horses  came  on  a  stampede  through  our 
camp,  stampeding  many  of  our  horses.  Two  of  my 
horses  got  away.  I  put  the  saddle  on  a  horse  and 
had  only  time  to  buckle  one  girth.  The  other,  as  well 
as  the  breast  strap,  girth  and  throat  strap,  were  hang 
ing.  We  started  out  from  the  Junction  with  only 


WARRENTON  JUNCTION  67 

forty  men  in  line.  More  joined  us  after  we  got  into 
the  fight.  Major  Hammond  led  the  men,  Captain 
Penfield,  Captain  Krom  and  myself  were  at  his  heels. 

"  As  we  approached  the  house  at  the  Junction  we 
divided,  one-half  went  one  way  and  one-half  went  the 
other.  Mosby  had  captured  the  whole  First  Virginia 
regiment,  which  he  had  drawn  up  in  line  and  was  about 
ready  to  march  them  off  as  prisoners.  A  running 
fight  commenced.  Mosby  had  to  abandon  the  First 
Virginia  boys.  We  followed  them  to  Warrenton, 
about  ten  miles.  A  little  way  south  of  the  Junction, 
one  of  Mosby's  men  was  a  little  behind  the  others  and 
was  shooting  at  me  all  the  time.  I  thought  I  would 
have  him,  so  I  put  spurs  to  my  horse  and  was  along 
side  of  him  in  a  minute  and  ordered  him  to  surrender. 
He  turned  on  me  and  we  both  fired;  my  revolver 
missed  fire;  his  bullet  whizzed  past  my  head.  I  had 
to  turn  and  run;  he  followed  me.  I  lay  over  on  the 
side  of  my  horse  out  of  his  aim.  He  put  a  ball 
through  my  boot  leg.  Captain  Penfield  came  to  my 
assistance  and  captured  the  man. 

"  About  a  mile  south  of  the  Junction  one  of  Mosby's 
men  introduced  a  piece  of  cold  lead  into  my  left 
shoulder  which  made  me  go  to  the  rear.  I  did  not 
get  quite  back  to  the  Junction  before  I  fell  from  my 
horse  from  weakness  from  loss  of  blood.  When  I 
recovered  consciousness  two  hours  later  I  was  in  the 
Junction  house  with  other  wounded,  among  them 
Captain  Krom  of  the  Fifth  and  Major  Steele  of  the 
First  Virginia.  Major  Steele  did  not  recover." 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  same  month  General  Stuart 


68  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

sent  to  Mosby,  at  his  request,  a  little  Howitzer,  but 
nobody  dreamed  then  what  a  hot  and  meteoric  career 
it  was  destined  to  have.  The  old  Orange  and  Alex 
andria  Railroad  was  used  for  the  transportation  of 
all  the  supplies  of  the  Union  army  which  was  then  on 
the  Rappahannock  and,  as  a  consequence,  it  was 
heavily  guarded  at  every  weak  point.  It's  trains  were 
all  protected  by  sufficient  troops  to  prevent  an  attack 
from  our  men,  and  cavalry  patrols  were  constantly  on 
the  move  from  post  to  post  along  the  whole  line. 
This  condition  made  it  a  mark  for  Mosby,  as  it  was 
his  mission  to  annoy  the  enemy,  and  the  fight  at 
Catlett's  was  one  of  the  blows  he  struck. 

On  the  2Qth  of  May  he  had  the  Command,  about 
one  hundred  men,  meet  him  at  Patterson's,  and  the 
wonderful  little  Howitzer  was  run  out  for  inspection 
and  criticism.  Some  of  the  men  thought  it  a  bit  too 
large  to  carry  in  a  holster,  but  not  big  enough  to  be 
called  a  cannon.  Sam  Chapman  was  one  of  the  few 
men  in  the  Command  who  knew  the  difference  be 
tween  a  Howitzer  and  a  saw-log,  and  Mosby  told 
Sam  to  show  some  of  the  boys  what  to  do  with  it. 
He  was  an  officer  in  the  Dixie  Battery  when  he  came 
to  us.  He  spent  a  few  minutes  instructing  the  men 
in  the  artillery  tactics,  showing  them  the  difference 
between  the  muzzle  and  the  touch-hole,  and  finally  re 
ported  to  Mosby  that  his  battery  of  one  twelve-pound 
gun  was  thoroughly  and  efficiently  manned. 

Mosby  then  started  for  the  railroad,  stopping  at 
Greenwich  for  supper,  and  camping  not  far  from 
there  for  the  night.  Early  on  the  morning  of  the  3Oth 


WARRENTON  JUNCTION  69 

the  Command  was  pushed  on  towards  Catlett's  Sta 
tion,  where  the  gun  was  to  have  its  baptism  of  fire. 
When  they  reached  the  railroad  a  section  of  the  track 
was  torn  up  and  the  telegraph  wires  were  cut.  A 
train,  heavily  guarded,  soon  came  up  and  stopped 
before  it  reached  the  torn-up  rails.  Sam  Chapman 
turned  his  Howitzer  loose  upon  it,  and  the  men 
charged  it  and  scattered  the  guard.  The  train  of 
eleven  cars  was  plundered  of  its  contents  and  then 
burned.  The  boys  got  all  sorts  of  good  things  and  a 
lot  of  miscellaneous  supplies  that  were  of  no  earthly 
use  to  them,  but  which  they  could  not  resist  the  temp 
tation  to  carry  off.  Among  these  latter  were  big 
bundles  of  sole  leather  and  a  lot  of  fresh  shad. 

Cavalry  camps  were  near  by  on  each  side  of  the 
station  and  the  firing  of  our  guns  and  the  pistol 
shooting  that  followed  attracted  their  attention;  relief 
parties  were  at  once  sent  out. 

Colonel  Mann  was  in  command  of  the  cavalry  at 
Bristoe  Station,  and  he  immediately  started  Captain 
Hasbrouck  with  a  detachment  of  the  Fifth  New  York 
cavalry  to  intercept  Mosby,  while  he  followed  along 
the  railroad  with  his  own  Seventh  Michigan  and  the 
First  Vermont.  Mosby  had  only  gone  a  few  miles 
when  the  men  of  the  Fifth  New  York  faced  him, 
having  cut  across  from  their  camp.  Chapman  used 
his  Howitzer  again  and  sent  a  shell  into  them  which 
stopped  them,  and  Mosby  then  proceeded.  Colonel 
Mann  came  up  very  soon  with  his  Seventh  Michigan 
and  First  Vermont,  and  the  odds  were  too  great  for 
us. 


70  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA! 

It  was  decided  to  make  a  last  stand.  Sam  Chapman 
placed  his  little  gun  to  the  best  advantage  near  the 
residence  of  Mr.  Green  not  far  from  Greenwich,  and 
when  Captain  Barker  of  the  Fifth  New  York  charged 
him,  Sam  cut  loose  with  a  charge  of  grape  and  canis 
ter,  and  killed  three  or  four  and  wounded  seven  of 
them;  but,  though  our  men  repulsed  them  and  drove 
them  back,  we  finally  had  to  retreat  and  lost  the  gun. 
The  pursuit  was  not  kept  up. 

The  enemy  admitted  a  loss  of  five  killed  and  fifteen 
wounded.  Our  loss  was  five  killed  and  about  twenty 
wounded  and  captured.  Sam  Chapman  was  desper 
ately  wounded  and  left  at  Mr.  Charles  Green's  house, 
presumably  to  die.  Captain  B.  E.  Hoskins,  an  English 
army  officer  serving  with  us,  was  also  badly  wounded 
and  taken  to  Mr.  Green's  house  where  he  died,  and 
was  buried  in  the  little  family  church-yard  at  Green 
wich,  where  over  his  grave,  there  is  now  a  beautiful 
monument  placed  by  the  kindly  hands  of  Mr.  Green 
at  the  request  of  Captain  Hoskins'  father,  who  was 
an  English  rector. 

Captain  Hoskins  had  served  in  the  Crimean  war 
and  had  won  the  Crimean  medal  as  a  Captain  in  the 
English  army,  and  was  a  splendid  specimen  of  the 
gentleman  adventurer,  which  our  Command  attracted 
to  its  ranks.  He  sold  his  commission  and  joined 
Garibaldi  in  one  of  his  campaigns,  and  later  came 
to  America  for  adventure.  I  am  indebted  for  a  very 
fine  photograph  of  old  Greenwich  Church  and  Captain 
Hoskins'  tombstone,  to  Mr.  Douglas  Green,  a  New 
York  broker,  son  of  Mr.  Charles  Green.  He  was  a 


WARRENTON  JUNCTION  ;r 

boy  at  the  time  of  our  fight,  but  remembers  it  dis 
tinctly,  and  says  he  gave  up  his  room  and  his  bed  to 
our  two  wounded  officers,  Hoskins  dying  in  his  bed. 
Sam  Chapman  went  down  at  his  gun,  and  Fount  Beat- 
tie  and  Mont  joy  were  captured  trying  to  save  it. 

It  was  of  this  fight  that  Major  Boutelle,  a  retired 
army  officer  now  living  in  the  State  of  Washington, 
wrote  me  he  thought  the  bringing  out  and  handling 
of  our  gun  that  day  was  one  of  the  most  romantic 
affairs  of  the  war.  The  Major  was  a  Lieutenant  of 
the  Fifth  Cavalry  at  the  time  of  the  fight  and  had 
his  horse  killed  under  him  by  a'  shot  from  Sam 
Chapman's  little  cannon  at  close  range.  He  suggested 
that  I  write  to  Major  Barker  of  Crown  Point,  N.  Y., 
who  led  his  men  against  us  so  successfuly  that  day, 
and  get  him  to  give  me  his  version  of  the  fight,  which 
I  did,  and  got  the  following  interesting  story  from 
him,  which  I  here  insert  with  his  permission. 

'  The  morning  of  May  3Oth,  1863,  found  detach 
ments  of  the  First  Vermont,  Seventh  Michigan  and 
Fifth  New  York  Cavalry,  in  which  latter  regiment  I 
was  then  Second  Lieutenant,  guarding  the  railroad 
near  Bristoe  Station.  A  train  came  out  from  Wash 
ington  and,  stopping  at  our  camp,  left  papers  and 
supplies  and  passed  on.  It  had  gone  but  a  few  mo 
ments  when  we  heard  an  artillery  shot  from  its  direc 
tion.  We  knew  Mosby  had  never  had  any  cannon, 
and  so  supposed  it  must  be  General  Stuart  who  had 
attacked  the  train.  Colonel  Mann  of  the  Seventh 
Michigan,  in  command,  ordered  Captain  Hasbrouck, 
in  command  of  the  detachment  of  the  Fifth  New 


72  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

York,  to  strike  across  the  country  and  get  in  the  rear 
of  the  enemy,  he  himself  taking  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Preston  with  the  First  Vermont  and  the  Seventh 
Michigan  directly  to  where  the  train  was  attacked. 

"  Our  detachment  started  out  and  met  Mosby's 
Command  face  to  face  in  the  road.  He  immediately 
put  his  gun  into  position  and  sent  us  his  compliments 
by  way  of  a  shell,  which  killed  Lieutenant  Boutelle's 
horse.  Captain  Hasbrouck,  instead  of  charging  as 
he  should  have  done,  marched  his  men  up  on  a  hill 
and  allowed  Mosby  to  march  by  us  in  good  order. 
I  rode  up  to  Captain  Hasbrouck  and  asked  him  what 
he  intended  to  do,  and  he  replied  that  he  could  do 
nothing  with  his  small  command.  This  made  me 
very  angry.  I  was  nothing  but  a  boy  anxious  for 
a  fight  and  I  turned  around  and  gave  the  order,  '  By 
fours  from  the  right,  trot,  march/  and  started  after 
Mosby,  most  of  the  Command  following  me.  We 
had  gone  three  or  four  miles  on  the  run,  tracking 
the  enemy  by  the  shad  and  other  things  which  they 
dropped,  which  they  had  captured  from  the  train, 
and  were  pretty  well  strung  out  when,  going  around  a 
turn  in  the  road  in  a  small  piece  of  timber,  we  sud 
denly  ran  into  their  rear  guard. 

"  It  proved  to  be  Mosby  himself,  Captain  Hoskins 
of  the  British  army,  and  three  others.  Corporal 
Wooster  of  Company  H,  Corporal  Jenkins  of  Company 
F,  and  myself  were  too  near  to  halt  and  ran  right 
into  them.  At  the  first  fire  Wooster  and  Jenkins 
were  both  wounded  and  their  horses  shot.  Colonel 
Hoskins  was  mortally  wounded,  and  one  of  Mosby's 


WARRENTON  JUNCTION  73 

men  killed.  This  left  me  alone  with  the  other  three 
for  probably  one  or  two  minutes  (it  seemed  hours). 
I  fired  all  the  shots  in  my  revolver,  and  then  drew 
my  sabre,  they  trying  to  shoot  me,  crying  (  Surrender, 
.Yank,'  and  I  trying  to  kill  them. 

"  Hiram  Underbill  was  the  first  of  my  men  to  get 
up  to  us.  He  undoubtedly  saved  my  life.  I  have 
seen  an  article  written  by  a  Confederate  officer  stating 
that  Mosby  was  slightly  wounded  on  the  arm  that 
day  by  a  sabre.  It  must  have  been  my  sabre,  as  I 
hit  some  one,  but  did  not  know  then  who  it  was. 
They  got  away  but  we  soon  caught  up  with  them. 
They  had  their  gun  posted  on  a  knoll  in  a  lane,  and 
as  we  came  up  they  fired  a  shell  into  us.  I  said  to 
the  boys,  '  I  think  we  can  get  that  gun  before  they 
can  fire  again/  and  they  all  said,  *  Let's  go/ 

"  We  got  very  near  to  the  gun,  probably  within 
twenty  feet,  when  it  was  fired,  killing  the  gallant  Cor 
poral  Drake,  poor  brave  fellow,  a  grape  shot  passing 
through  his  head.  Two  others  were  also  killed  and 
a  number  wounded.  Two  graps  shot  entered  my  left 
thigh,  one  carrying  off  my  stirrup  and  the  sole  of 
my  boot,  and  four  or  five  entered  my  horse. 

"  At  this  time  Colonel  Preston  came  in  with  the 
Vermont  men  and  we  took  the  gun,  the  brave  Lieuten 
ant  Chapman  fighting  to  the  last,  though  mortally 
wounded.  I  then  rode  back  about  one  mile  and  met 
Doctor  Edson  of  the  First  Vermont.  I  got  off  my 
horse  and  laid  down  under  a  tree,  having  lost  con 
siderable  blood,  and  feeling  rather  weak.  The  doctor 
took  off  my  boot  and  found  one  ball  in  it  and  the 


74  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

other  he  cut  out  of  my  leg.  At  this  time  a  Mr. 
Green,  a  quiet  elderly  gentleman,  came  out  with  an 
ox  team,  some  ice  water  and  a  bottle  of  brandy,  the 
contents  of  which  revived  me  amazingly.  He  kindly 
invited  me  to  remain  at  his  house  until  I  convalesced, 
but  I  declined,  with  thanks,  as  it  was  in  the  enemy's 
lines.  I  waited  until  they  sent  to  camp  for  an  ambu 
lance,  in  which  I  rode  back  to  camp,  arriving  about 
dark,  and  remained  in  the  ambulance  all  night. 

"  Official  reports  say  that  we  lost  four  killed  and 
one  officer  and  seven  men  wounded  out  of  one  hun 
dred  and  seventy-one  engaged.  Mosby's  Command 
numbered  about  two  hundred  men,  but  I  am  unable 
to  give  his  loss." 

General  Stahel  in  his  report  of  June  3rd,  said : 
"  The  advance  of  the  Fifth  New  York,  led  by  Lieu 
tenant  Elmer  Barker,  came  up  with  the  enemy  first. 
.  .  .  with  his  small  detachment  dashed  up  the  hill 
and  when  within  about  fifty  yards  of  the  gun  received 
a  charge  of  grape  and  canister,  which  killed  three  and 
wounded  seven  of  our  men  and  several  horses;  the 
enemy  had  then  charged  upon  us,  but  were  met  with 
a  stubborn  resistance  by  the  Lieutenant  and  his  men 
although  the  Lieutenant  had  received  two  grape  shot 
in  his  thigh.  We  were,  however,  overpowered  and 
driven  back  a  short  distance.  Just  then  Colonel  Pres 
ton  of  the  First  Vermont,  came  up  at  a  full  charge 
upon  their  flank  and  was  again  received  with  a  dis 
charge  from  the  Howitzer  of  grape  and  canister. 
Our  men  pushed  on,  until  they  came  to  a  hand-to-hand 
conflict,  when  the  enemy  gradually  fell  back." 


WARRENTON  JUNCTION  75 

On  the  day  of  the  fight  Colonel  Mann  reported 
very  promptly  to  General  Stahel,  commanding,  a  very 
graphic  account  of  the  affair,  and  on  the  following 
day,  after  returning  from  a  visit  to  the  grounds,  he 
reported  to  Major  Baldwin  as  follows: 

"  Returned  at  dark,  bringing  in  one  cannon  and 
all  our  dead  and  wounded.  The  wounded  number  fif 
teen  on  our  side.  It  was  an  extremely  hot  affair  for 
a  small  one.  Many  of  the  wounds  very  severe.  Our 
captures  of  the  day  are  ten  prisoners,  including  Cap 
tain  Hoskins,  an  English  officer  of  seven  years'  service, 
now  in  the  Confederate  service,  and  Lieutenant  Chap 
man,  who  had  charge  of  the  artillery.  Both  these 
officers  so  severely  wounded  could  not  be  removed 
and  were  paroled.  I  sent  in  prisoners  by  train  today. 
The  enemy  lost  heavy  in  wounded,  as  they  received  a 
terrific  fire  from  revolvers  at  close  range,  followed  by 
a  determined  sabre  charge.  Many  were  severely  cut 
by  sabre,  but  clung  to  their  horses  and  fell  back  into 
the  thicket.  [Not  a  man  of  Mosby's  was  so  much  as 
scratched  with  a  sabre.  The  Colonel  had  been  mis 
informed.  J.  W.  Munson.]  Lieutenant  Barker  had 
two  grape  shot  through  his  thigh,  but  is  quite  com 
fortable.  He  crossed  sabres  with  them  and  fought 
desperately  after  this  wound." 


CHAPTER  VII 

DRANESVILLE   AND   ELSEWHERE 

WHEN  the  two  armies  under  Lee  and  Meade 
were  coming  back  from  the  disastrous  Gettys 
burg  campaign,  Mosby's  little  Confederacy 
was  overrun  with  troops,  and  his  men,  at  the  time  only 
one  company,  were  kept  on  the  alert;  but  they  were 
well  paid  for  the  annoyance  Meade's  army  gave  them. 
Singly  and  in  groups,  men  were  picked  up  and  gath 
ered  into  the  Mosby  fold  and  as  it  was  impossible  or, 
more  properly  speaking,  inconvenient,  to  carry  them 
out  of  the  enemy's  lines  to  turn  them  over  to  General 
Lee,  a  temporary  camp  for  them  was  established  in  the 
Bull  Run  Mountain,  where  they  were  as  securely  kept, 
though  in  full  sight  of  their  own  passing  troops,  as 
if  they  were  in  Libby  prison. 

By  the  2ist  of  July,  Mosby  had  captured  forty- 
seven  men,  two  sutler's  wagons  and  a  headquarters 
wagon.  To  retain  them,  however,  was  an  annoying 
task,  for  Mosby  wanted  every  available  man  for  act 
ive  service.  Tom  Lake,  with  seven  men,  was  detailed 
to  carry  the  prisoners  out,  much  to  Tom's  disgust, 
for  the  boy  was  eager  to  stay  where  he  could  partici 
pate  in  the  fighting.  The  sutler's  wagons  proved  a 
treat  to  the  boys,  for  they  contained  all  sorts  of  good 
things.  From  the  appetizing  contents  of  one,  Lake 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE      77 

prepared  a  supper  of  canned  turkey  and  hot  corn 
bread  with  a  bottle  of  wine.  That  was  Tom's  idea  of 
a  feast.  He  invited  his  chief  to  share  the  meal  and 
during  its  progress  he  was  ordered  to  carry  out  the 
forty-seven  prisoners.  Three  wagons  were  burned 
and  the  captors  and  captured  started  along  the  moun 
tain  side  to  worm  their  way  toward  the  Southern 
army  at  Culpeper. 

A  few  days  later  Mosby  sent  the  following  report 
to  General  Stuart: 

I  sent  you  in  charge  of  Sergeant  Beattie,  one  hun 
dred  and  forty-one  prisoners  which  we  captured  from 
the  enemy  during  their  march  through  this  county. 
I  also  sent  off  forty-five  several  days  ago.  Included  in 
the  number,  one  Major,  one  Captain  and  two  Lieu 
tenants.  I  also  captured  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
horses  and  mules,  twelve  wagons  (only  three  of  which 
I  was  able  to  destroy),  fifty  sets  of  fine  harness,  arms, 
etc.,  etc. 

Beattie  carried  these  prisoners  out  safely  with  a 
guard  of  only  seventeen  men,  and  when  they  were  ap 
proaching  our  army  it  is  said  that  the  alarm  was 
given  that  Meade  was  making  a  flank  movement  on 
Lee.  Beattie  was  so  completely  lost  to  sight  among 
his  men  in  blue  that  our  troops  could  not  distinguish 
any  of  our  men  and  supposed  it  must  be  a  flank  move 
ment  or  a  daring  raid. 

The  first  night  that  Tom  Lake  and  his  forty-seven 
prisoners  were  on  their  journey  South,  he  ran  into 
Hancock's  column  not  far  from  Warrenton  and,  re 
membering  that  Mosby  once  carried  two  prisoners 


78  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

safely  through  an  entire  regiment  of  the  enemy,  he 
struck  out  boldly  with  his  little  crowd  and  piloted 
them  through  without  a  challenge  or  the  loss  of  a 
prisoner.  It  was  then  not  yet  dusk,  and  immediately 
afterward  he  went  into  camp  for  the  night  at  the 
home  of  one  of  the  Blackwells.  He  resumed  his  march 
the  next  morning,  escaping  a  raiding  party  who  had 
heard  of  his  being  there  half  an  hour  previously.  Not 
content  with  the  number  of  prisoners  he  already  had/ 
he  gathered  in  several  of  Hancock's  men  as  he  passed 
through  that  column.  At  three  o'clock  he  turned 
his  prisoners  over  to  General  Longstreet,  at  Culpeper 
Court  House  and  started  back  to  the  Command.  This 
daring  journey  was  made  entirely  by  day. 

Charley  Hall  was  one  of  the  seven  men  detailed  to 
accompany  Tom  Lake,  and  the  mere  mention  of  his 
name  recalls  enough  incidents  connected  with  him 
to  fill  a  book.  I  reluctantly  resist  the  impulse  to  chron 
icle  them  at  length,  but  as  he  is  one  of  our  dead  heroes 
I  must  make  suitable  mention  of  him.  Though  he 
was  a  mature  man,  thirty  years  old,  as  I  recall  him,  he 
was  companionable  with  the  younger  set,  and  especial 
ly  popular  with  the  dare-devil  element.  At  times  he 
drifted  away  from  the  truly  exemplary  paths  of  the 
regular  Mosby  Guerrillas  and  went  off  on  wild  ad 
ventures  with  Nick  Carter  and  Charley  McDonough, 
two  brevet-outlaws  who  accompanied  us  only  by  tol 
erance  of  the  Colonel.  When  these  three  started  out 
on  a  business  trip  there  were  always  results.  Colonel 
Mosby  would  not  permit  Charley  and  Nick  to  indulge 
in  reprehensible  actions  when  they  were  with  us,  but 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE      79 

I  think  he  had  a  sneaking  admiration  for  their  brav 
ery,  for  neither  of  them  knew  what  fear  was.  There 
was  a  reward  for  Charley  McDonough's  apprehension, 
and  once  he  was  chased  by  a  raiding  party  near  Mid- 
dleburg.  His  horse  having  fallen  the  boy  realized 
that  he  was  to  be  taken  prisoner,  and  accordingly 
emptied  all  but  one  load  of  his  pistols  into  his  pursu 
ers,  and  the  last  into  his  own  brain. 

Nick  Carter  belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest  and  most 
artistocratic  families  in  Virginia,  but  he  accumulated 
such  a  load  of  undesirable  responsibility  and  notoriety 
during  the  war  that  he  thought  it  best  to  leave  the 
country  mysteriously  at  its  close. 

Charley  Hall  was  always  picturesque.  He  was  a 
particularly  handsome  man,  and  always  went  fault 
lessly  mounted  and  equipped;  in  fact  he  was  one  of 
our  pronounced  dandies.  I  have  seen  him  emerge 
from  a  fight,  brushing  the  dust  from  his  clothes  and 
smoothing  out  his  ruffled  plume  as  though  nothing 
unusual  had  occurred.  There  was  a  story  current  in 
the  Command  that,  in  the  "  Greenback  Raid,"  he  had 
relieved  a  cattle  dealer  of  more  than  five  thousand  dol 
lars,  in  addition  to  his  share  of  the  greenbacks  cap 
tured  from  Sheridan's  paymasters.  The  cattle  dealer 
was  a  Government  contractor. 

Charley  and  John  Puryear  were  riding  down  the 
Snickersville  turnpike  one  dark  night  and,  as  they 
crossed  a  little  stream,  they  stopped  their  horses  to 
let  them  drink.  While  they  stood  there  two  men  rode 
up  alongside  of  them  and  also  stopped  their  horses. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken  for  a  moment  and  then  Pur- 


8o  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

year  whispered  softly :  "  Charley,  they  are  Yankees." 
Knowing  full  well  that  the  newcomers  wrere  the  ex 
treme  advance  of  a  raiding  party  and  that  any  attempt 
to  run  would  only  hasten  their  own  capture  or  their 
death  they  quietly  drew  their  pistols  and,  each  se 
lecting  the  nearest  man,  fired.  There  were  cries  of 
pain;  a  splash  in  the  little  stream;  two  riderless 
horses  dashing  by  them  down  the  pike ;  and  the  clatter 
of  hoofs  back  of  them.  That  was  all.  War  is  not 
play. 

On  the  2Oth  of  February,  1864,  two  days  before 
the  Dranesville  Fight,  frequently  referred  to  as  "  the 
other  Dranesville  fight,"  because  Miskell's  was  not 
far  from  Dranesville,  and  they  used  to  call  that  the 
first  fight  at  Dranesville),  Colonel  Mosby,  Johnny  Ed 
monds,  Jake  Lavinder  and  I  were  seated  at  breakfast 
in  Mr.  Blackwell's  home  in  the  Blue  Ridge  foothills; 
the  same  house  at  which  I  joined  the  Partizan 
Rangers  the  year  previous,  and  which  I  had  made 
my  home  ever  since.  It  was  known  by  all  our  men 
and  by  the  citizens  generally,  as  Mosby's  Headquar 
ters,  for  he  was  there  more  than  anywhere  else  when 
not  in  the  saddle.  Before  we  had  completed  our  meal 
Jimmy  Edmonds,  Johnny's  little  brother,  burst  into 
the  room  panting  from  his  long  run  and  yelling :  — 

"  The  Yankees  are  on  the  pike :   it's  just  blue  with 


'em.3 


We  saddled  our  horses  at  once  and  galloped  out 
to  the  pike  to  see  how  much  of  it  they  occupied,  as 
such  action  seemed  like  trespassing  on  our  preserve. 
To  compliment  a  faithful  follower,  the  Colonel  had 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE      81 

appointed  Lavinder  Ordnance  Sergeant  of  the  Bat 
talion;  in  fact  he  had  created  the  office  to  give  it  to 
Jake,  and  incidentally  to  please  Jake's  sweetheart, 
who  was  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Blackwell.  The  Colonel 
was  ever  a  gallant,  and  had  a  warm  spot  in  his  heart 
for  lovers. 

During  Jake's  term  of  office  he  had  gathered, 
though  from  what  source  no  ever  knew,  two  carbines 
and  a  few  rounds  of  cartridges  which,  at  a  pinch, 
might  be  used  safely,  if  not  effectually.  We  laughed 
at  his  arsenal,  preferring  our  pistol  to  anything  else, 
but  Jake  halted  long  enough  to  seize  his  collection  be 
fore  he  galloped  after  us.  I  recollect  how  encumbered 
he  appeared  as  he  followed  in  our  rear,  carrying  his 
guns  in  every  possible  position,  and  hanging  on  to 
them  in  the  face  of  our  ridicule. 

When  we  reached  the  pike  not  far  from  Piedmont 
Depot,  on  the  old  Manassas  Gap  Railroad,  we  dis 
covered  a  raiding  party  of  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  men.  They  proved  to  be  Cole's  Maryland  Bat 
talion  and  they  were  looking  for  trouble.  We  four 
were  so  absolutely  out  of  proportion  to  their  number 
that  the  Colonel  sent  a  messenger  off  to  spread  the 
news  and  gather  the  Mosby  clans.  While  we  were 
waiting  for  enough  of  our  men  to  gather  for  an  at 
tack,  we  could  do  nothing  except  ride  along  in  the- 
wake  of  the  enemy  and  keep  a  sharp  watch  on  their 
movements.  Meantime  some  one  was  riding  frantical 
ly  from  house  to  house,  crying  out :  — 

"  The  Colonel  is  down  on  the  pike  with  only  three 
men,  trying  to  hold  a  whole  Yankee  column:  hurry 


82  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

over  to  him  and  send  to  him  all  the  men  you  can! 
Spread  the  news !  " 

And  so  on  to  the  next  farm,  a  sort  of  Guerrilla  Paul 
Revere. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  Mosby's  men  were 
what  the  Yankees  were  looking  for.  Shortly  after 
we  came  in  sight  of  them  they  turned  back  on  the 
route  upon  which  we  first  saw  them.  Presently  they 
dropped  down  a  little  hill  and  stopped  for  a  moment' 
at  a  creek  that  ran  at  its  base.  This  was  the  moment 
for  which  Jake  had  been  waiting  .  He  passed  us  the 
two  carbines  and  insisted  that  now  was  the  time  to 
try  their  range  and  effectiveness.  Colonel  Mosby  did 
not  care  to  use  a  strange  and  suspicious  looking 
weapon,  and  I  was  equally  reluctant,  for  I  had  never 
fired  a  carbine  in  my  life,  and  I  did  not  want  to  be 
killed  by  a  bursting  gun.  Jake  insisted  and  finally 
talked  us  into  it.  We  selected  a  couple  of  shells  that 
seemed  to  fit  into  the  guns  without  their  sticking  or 
dropping  through  all  the  way  and,  after  warning 
Jake  to  stand  back  out  of  danger  if  anything  unusual 
happened,  we  blazed  away.  A  horse  and  a  man,  far 
apart,  dropped  dead  in  the  road.  Jake  let  out  a  whoop 
and  pressed  us  to  try  it  again,  but  we  knew  when  we 
had  enough,  especially  as  a  rain  of  bullets  from  Cole's 
men  fell  around  us.  It  was  never  known  which  of  us 
killed  the  man  and  which  the  horse,  for  neither  of 
us  aimed  at  either,  but  I  claimed  the  animal  as  my 
prize  because  it  had  on  a  bridle  and  saddle  which 
I  wanted  for  a  friend.  The  dead  man  was  carried  off 
by  his  men. 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE      83 

This  carbine  shooting  woke  things  up.  Some  of 
our  men,  rounded  up  by  the  messengers,  began  to  ap 
pear;  more  joined  us  along  the  pike  as  we  started 
after  Cole's  men,  whom  we  pursued  for  miles  into 
Loudoun  county  in  a  running  fight.  Just  as  we  passed 
through  the  town  of  Upperville,  the  boys'  school  was 
dismissed  for  recess.  One  very  fat  boy  took  in  the 
situation  at  once  and,  jumping  on  his  pony  with  his 
McGuffy's  Third  Reader  for  his  only  weapon,  which 
he  waved  aloft,  he  dashed  into  the  chase  with  us, 
whooping  and  yelling  and  never  stopping  until  we  all 
quit  the  chase.  That  day  was  the  boy's  last  at  school, 
for  he  insisted  on  joining  the  Command  and,  until 
the  end  of  the  war,  was  one  of  the  gamest  and  best 
soldiers  Mosby  had.  He  was  Cab  Maddox,  known  to 
every  man  in  the  Command  and  to  everybody  in  that 
country,  as  a  fighter. 

One  man,  McCobb,  was  killed,  and  a  few  captured, 
among  them  Bartlet  and  John  Boiling,  who  were  at 
their  father's  home  when  Colonel  Cole  pounced  down 
upon  them.  The  Command  was  called  together  the 
next  day  to  attend  the  funeral  of  our  dead  comrade. 
We  gave  our  dead  Christian  burial  whenever  possible 
and  they  sleep  today  in  many  an  unmarked  grave 
in  northern  Virginia. 

While  we  were  gathering  for  the  funeral  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Jeffries,  one  of  our  scouts  brought  in 
the  report  that  the  Yankees  were  about.  We  jumped 
into  our  saddles,  leaving  McCobb's  body  to  be  buried 
by  others,  and  rode  away  at  a  stiff  gallop  in  the  di 
rection  where  our  scout  had  last  seen  the  enemy. 


84  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

We  had  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  and  Mosby 
was  in  command.  Late  that  same  afternoon  we  over 
took  the  raiders  and  ascertained  that  they  were  a  part 
of  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  under  Captain 
Reed.  They  had  about  two  hundred  men  which  in 
cluded  a  number  of  Californians  belonging  to  a  Cali 
fornia  battalion  that  formed  part  of  the  Massachusetts 
regiment. 

We  followed  them  quietly  all  the  afternoon  and 
when  they  camped  at  nightfall,  not  very  far  from 
Dranesville,  we  camped  on  their  trail.  They  were 
joined  that  night  by  another  party  of  the  Sixteenth 
New  York  Cavalry  under  Major  Frazer,  but  the  next 
morning  Frazer  and  his  men  quitted  them  and  went 
to  his  camp  by  a  road  in  our  rear  which  left  us  be 
tween  the  two  forces. 

The  outlook  was  exceedingly  promising  for  a  pitched 
battle  on  a  small  scale.  Mosby  was  in  a  very  cheerful 
mood,  looking  forward  to  a  fitting  celebration  of 
Washington's  birthday,  which  was  to  fall  upon  the 
morrow. 

Most  of  us  "  retired  "  to  our  saddle  blankets  on 
the  frozen  ground  later  than  usual  as  the  imminence 
of  a  splendid  fight  made  sleep  impossible  to  many. 
The  hot-headed  youngsters  among  us  wanted  to  be 
gin  at  once.  We  were  astir  about  sunrise  the  next 
morning,  saddled  up  and  mounted  quickly,  and  moved 
over  to  the  Dranesville  pike,  a  mile  or  so  below 
town.  Colonel  Mosby  split  his  force,  placing  the  two 
divisions  two  or  three  hundred  yards  apart,  near  the 
pike.  From  the  two  sections  he  selected  fifteen  men 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE       85 

whom  he  stationed,  dismounted,  in  the  pines  immedi 
ately  beside  the  pike.  Down  the  road  he  placed  three 
men,  Frank  Rahm  and  two  others,  to  attract  the  at 
tention  of  the  Yankees  when  they  came  along  and  to 
draw  them  out.  Mosby  gave  strict  orders  that  not  a 
shot  was  to  be  fired  by  any  man  until  he  gave  the 
signal,  which  was  to  be  a  sharp  blast  from  a  whistle, 
and,  taking  with  him  Companies  A  and  B  a  little 
way  below  where  he  had  stationed  the  fifteen  men, 
he  left  Chapman  in  charge  of  Companies  C,  D  and 
E  above  the  fifteen  men.  All  were  near  the  road  but 
hidden  from  view. 

Presently  some  of  Reed's  men  saw  Frank  Rahm 
and  the  two  men  down  the  pike  and  started  for  them, 
passing  our  first  division  under  Chapman  concealed 
in  the  woods.  Not  a  shot  was  fired  and  the  enemy 
following  the  pickets  rode  blindly  into  the  trap.  Our 
men,  who  had  been  ordered  to  remain  quiet  and  await 
the  signal,  were  tremblingly  eager  to  begin  firing,  but 
a  command  from  Mosby  was  not  to  be  disobeyed. 
We  could  see  the  Yankees  moving  cautiously  along 
the  pike,  but  inevitably  into  the  jaws  of  death. 
After  a  time  the  advance  column  came  opposite  our 
fifteen  dismounted  men,  and  a  shrill  blast  came  from 
Mosby's  whistle.  Instantly  fifteen  pairs  of  six-shoot 
ers  were  emptied  into  the  enemy's  ranks.  They  halted 
and  wavered,  some  of  them  throwing  up  their  hands 
as  if  to  ward  off  a  sudden  slap  in  the  face.  Almost 
simultaneously  our  mounted  detachments,  right  and 
left,  on  the  pike,  descended  like  wolves  on  the  fold, 
with  the  unearthly  Mosby  yell  spreading  terror  and 


86  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

confusion  everywhere.  Our  attack  seemed  to  be  a 
complete  surprise,  although  they  were  out  "  looking 
for  Mosby." 

The  whistle  had  been  blown  just  a  little  too  soon,  for 
what  we  supposed  was  the  main  body  of  Reed's  men 
and  had  fired  into  proved  to  be  only  an  advance  guard 
and,  when  Chapman  charged  upon  the  pike,  he  was 
abreast  of  the  main  body  which  had  turned  and  begun 
retreating.  When  Mosby  appeared  on  the  pike  with 
Companies  A  and  B  none  of  the  enemy  were  in  front 
of  him  and  we  had  to  gallop  up  the  pike  to  catch  up 
with  them.  When  we  reached  them  Chapman  and 
his  men  were  already  there,  and  all  of  a  sudden  it 
became  a  hand-to-hand  affair.  It  was  soon  evident 
to  Reed  that  he  was  in  for  a  whipping,  and  his  men 
began  breaking  through  the  fences  and  into  the  fields, 
but  fighting  all  the  while.  His  Californians,  especially 
notoriously  good  fighters,  were  standing  up  to  the 
rack  like  men,  dealing  out  to  us  the  best  they  had. 
They  rallied  at  every  call  on  them  and  went  down 
with  banners  flying.  The  road  was  rapidly  filled  up 
with  dead  and  wounded  men  and  horses,  and  riderless 
horses  were  galloping  in  terror  everywhere.  We 
chased  the  flying  men  in  every  direction,  constantly 
emitting  the  Mosby  yell  to  give  speed  to  their  heels. 
Many  of  them  were  driven  into  the  Potomac  river,  and 
dead  and  drowned  bodies  were  found  around  the 
neighborhood  for  several  days  afterwards. 

No  man  in  the  Command  was  nearer  to  the  thick  of 
that  fight  than  Mosby  himself.  There  was  no  room, 
after  once  we  got  started,  to  lead  a  charge,  and  the 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE      87 

Chief  got  right  in  the  middle.  I  saw  him  weaving 
in  and  out  of  the  fighting  mass  like  a  ferret,  fighting 
hand-to-hand  with  every  man  who  would  stand  before 
him.  His  fine  mare  was  shot  early  in  the  action,  and 
he  sat  her  firmly  throughout  the  entire  fight,  though 
she  was  on  three  legs  only. 

There  was  in  our  Command  one  Baron  von  Mas- 
sow,  a  Prussian  officer,  whom  came  to  us  with  letters, 
looking  for  adventure  and  desiring  to  study  our  tac 
tics,  like  the  Austrian  officer  of  whom  I  shall  speak 
in  my  account  of  the  Greenback  Raid.  Since  1865  ne 
has  been  identified  with  the  German  army  and  has  had 
part  in  every  war  since.  Today  he  commands  the 
crack  cavalry  corps,  the  Ninth,  of  the  Imperial  Ger 
man  Army,  and  as  I  write  these  lines  his  photograph 
is  before  me,  showing  his  breast  covered  with  medals 
of  honor.  He  was  one  of  the  handsomest  men  I  ever 
saw. 

That  morning,  at  Dranesville,  the  Baron  rode  into 
the  fight  in  the  squad  in  front  of  me.  A  long  red- 
lined  cape  was  thrown  back  from  his  shoulders  ex 
posing  his  glittering  uniform.  From  his  hat  waved  a 
big  ostrich  plume  and  he  dashed  into  the  fray  with 
an  old  German  sabre  flashing  in  the  light.  I  have 
not  the  slightest  doubt  that  he  was  mistaken  for 
Mosby,  for  he  was  a  very  conspicuous  figure  and  drew 
a  perfect  rain  of  bullets  and  sabre  thrusts  from  the 
enemy.  He  saw  Captain  Reed  and  charged  him. 
Reed  threw  up  his  pistol  hand  and  surrendered  to  the 
Baron,  who  passed  him  by  to  charge  on  the  next 
man.  When  his  back  was  turned  Reed  shot  him 


88  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

through  the  body.  Seeing  Captain  Wm.  H.  Chapman 
rushing  towards  him  to  avenge  the  deed,  he  started  on 
a  run  but  was  immediately  overtaken  by  Chapman 
who  shot  him  through  the  body,  falling  dead  near 
the  Baron  who  was  lying  in  the  road  where  he  was 
shot.  I  was  near  enough  to  see  him  hit  and  remember 
he  tried  to  raise  his  weapon  for  another  shot,  found 
his  strength  going,  and  plunged  forward  on  his  face 
dead. 

I  saw  the  Baron  lying  in  the  road  with  his  martial 
cloak  around  him,  magnificent  in  his  colors,  and  look 
ing  every  inch  a  hero.  I  had  no  time  at  that  moment 
to  stand  in  contemplation  of  the  real  military  man 
among  us,  so  I  jumped  my  horse  over  him  and  rode 
on.  The  brave  German  pulled  through  after  a  long 
and  hard  siege,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  return  to 
his  native  land;  the  following  summer  he  bade  many 
of  us  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  left  us.  Some  of 
our  old  Command  correspond  with  him  to  this  day. 
I  got  the  facts  of  Captain  Reed's  death  from  Colonel 
iWm.  H.  Chapman. 

Before  we  went  into  the  action  that  day  I  loaned 
one  of  my  pistols  to  a  new  man  who  had  none,  which 
left  me  but  one  for  my  own  use.  I  did  fairly  well 
until  the  end  of  the  action,  when  I  got  the  drop  on 
a  Californian  with  my  last  shot.  He  threw  up  his 
pistol  and  exclaimed,  "  I  surrender." 

I  took  it  for  granted  he  meant  what  he  said,  and 
rode  past  him,  firing  at  a  man  beyond  who  was  trying 
to  work  his  way  through  a  wedge  of  his  men,  on  the 
roadside.  Then  the  man  who  so  readily  surrendered 


BARON  ROBERT  VON  MASSOW, 

PRIVATE  IN  MOSBY'S  COMMAND,  AND  NOW  GENERAL  OF  NINTH  CAVALRY 
CORPS,  THE  CRACK  CORPS  OF  THE  GERMAN  ARMY. 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE      89 

turned  and  shot  me  in  the  back  as  I  passed  him.  I 
don't  blame  him  in  the  least,  for  I  ought  to  have  had 
the  sense  to  take  his  pistol  from  him  when  he  held 
it  up.  Lud  Lake,  who  was  an  eye  witness  to  his 
attempt  on  my  life,  shot  and  killed  him.  When  the 
bullet  struck  me  only  a  half  inch  from  my  back  bone, 
I  felt  a  numbness  coming  over  my  legs  first  and  then 
my  body.  One  of  our  men  reached  out  and  held  me 
on  my  horse.  At  that  instant  Harry  Sweeting  was 
shot  at  my  side  and  the  same  man  reached  out  and 
seized  him,  too :  but  Harry's  wound  hurt  him  so  badly 
he  pulled  away  and  fell  from  his  horse  into  the  road. 
He  managed  to  drag  himself  to  a  little  stream  trick 
ling  along  the  roadside,  where  he  bathed  his  wound  in 
the  cold  water  and  stopped  the  flow  of  blood.  He 
recovered. 

My  friend  who  held  me  on  my  horse  (I  never 
learned  his  name),  succeeded  in  getting  me  into  a 
nearby  house  and  placing  me  on  a  lounge,  after  which 
he  rushed  off  to  finish  his  engagement  with  the  Yan 
kees.  The  wounding  of  a  man  in  our  Command  was 
of  little  moment  and  my  friend  never  thought  enough 
of  the  incident  to  look  me  up  later  and  receive  my 
thanks.  Shortly  afterward,  when  the  fight  was  over 
and  the  men  started  home,  some  of  them,  seeing  my 
horse  tied  to  the  fence,  came  in  and  found  me  trying 
to  amuse  myself  by  counting  the  clock  ticks,  and  took 
me  away. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  fight  the  family  had  run 
out  of  the  house  and  gone  to  the  woods  for  protection 
and  I  was  alone  when  the  boys  found  me.  I  must 


90  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

have  been  an  attractive  object,  for  I  had  put  my  hand 
back  of  me  to  ease  my  pain  and  got  it  smeared  with 
warm  blood,  and  then  wiped  my  face  with  my  bloody 
hand.  My  wound  kept  me  out  of  service  for  a  few 
weeks,  but  I  had  gentle  nursing  by  Mrs.  Edmonds  and 
her  daughters  and  the  best  of  medical  care  from  Dr. 
Dunn,  who,  having  no  nitrate  of  silver,  used  to  dress 
my  wound  with  burnt  alum;  he  had  me  on  a  diet  of 
bacon  and  cabbage  till  he  could  get  my  stomach  strong. 

The  result  of  the  fight  on  our  side  was  the  loss  of 
one  man,  Chappalier,  killed,  and  eight  wounded,  five 
of  them  seriously.  The  Federal  loss  was  fifteen  killed, 
twenty-five  wounded,  seventy-five  prisoners  and  one 
hundred  horses  captured. 

The  Yankees  had  been  piloted  on  their  raid  by 
Charley  Binns,  a  deserter  from  our  Command.  When 
the  first  shot  was  fired  Charley  started  to  run  and 
was  never  heard  of  by  the  Calif ornians  or  our  men. 
It  was  said  that  he  stopped  for  one  night  in  Winnipeg 
to  get  a  bite  and  then  went  on  towards  the  North 
Pole.  His  name  became  a  by-word  in  Mosby's  Com 
mand. 

There  is  another  incident  of  this  second  Dranesville 
fight,  that  is  entitled  to  a  space  in  these  recollections. 
Johnny  Edmonds  was  my  "  bunky  "  in  Mosby's  Com 
mand.  Mr.  Blackwell,  at  whose  house  we  lived  and 
where  Mosby  made  his  headquarters,  was  Johnny's 
brother-in-law.  The  whole  family  resided  in  the 
neighborhood.  The  day  before  when  we  started  from 
Mr.  Blackwell's  to  go  to  McCobb's  funeral,  Johnny's 
mother  insisted  that  he  should  take  a  little  pocket 


DRANESVILLE  AND  ELSEWHERE      91 

Bible  along  with  him.  "  You  can't  tell  how  soon  you 
may  need  the  good  book,  my  son,"  was  her  parting 
advice.  She  was  a  very  devout  Episcopalian,  and, 
while  her  heart  was  in  the  cause  for  which  her  sons 
were  fighting,  she  had  an  abiding  faith  in  the  supreme 
strength  and  wisdom  to  be  gained  from  the  word  of 
God.  Johnny  took  the  book,  thrust  it  into  his  trous 
ers'  pocket  and  forgot  all  about  it.  In  the  fight  the 
next  day  he  fired  at  a  man  at  close  range  and  missed 
him,  something  he  did  not  do  often,  and  the  Union 
man  fired  back  and  hit  Johnny  with  a  forty-four  cali 
ber  slug  which  ploughed  through  the  little  pocket 
Bible,  lodged  against  Johnny's  thigh-bone  and  put  him 
out  of  the  game.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  Bible,  how 
ever,  the  bullet  would  surely  have  shattered  the  bone. 
We  were  taken  home  in  the  same  carriage  from  the 
fight,  and  both  were  nursed  back  to  strength  at  Mr. 
Blackwell's  home  by  his  mother  and  sisters.  Mrs. 
Edmonds  bent  over  her  boy  when  they  brought  him 
in  all  covered  with  dry  blood  and  I  heard  something 
about  a  Bible  as  they  embraced  each  other  in  tears. 

Johnny  went  to  Texas  after  the  war  ended  and  he 
had  finished  his  education,  became  a  leading  attorney, 
and  was  elected  mayor  of  Sherman;  he  went  to  the 
Spanish-American  war  as  a  Colonel.  His  old  wound 
began  to  bother  him  in  Texas  and,  in  1896,  he  went 
to  St.  Louis,  where  the  X-ray  located  the  bullet  in 
his  thigh.  He  had  it  cut  out  and  now  wears  it  on 
his  watch  chain  as  a  cheerful  reminder  of  the  good 
old  days.  My  own  sons  sat  at  his  bedside  in  the  hos 
pital  after  the  operation  and  heard  him  tell  of  his 


92  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

experiences  with  Mosby  when  he  was  my  "  bunky." 
When  he  got  well  enough  to  go  out,  the  boys  went 
to  see  a  game  of  base  ball  with  him.  John  L.  Sullivan 
sat  near  them  and  was  creating  some  annoyance  by 
his  hilarity.  Edmonds  did  not  know  who  he  was  and 
did  not  care,  but  told  him  to  "  shut  up,"  or  he  would 
"  fire  him  out."  I  suppose  he  thought  it  was  the  old 
Mosby  days  when  the  size  of  a  man  made  not  the 
slightest  difference. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   NARROW   ESCAPE 

ON  July  3rd,  1864,  the  Command  was  assembled 
to  make  a  raid  into  Maryland  and,  marching 
north  through  Loudoun  county,  reached  the 
Potomac  river  opposite  the  Federal  post  at  Point  of 
Rocks,  on  the  morning  of  the  Fourth  of  July.  We 
had  a  small  cannon  with  us  and  we  opened  fire  on  the 
troops  on  the  opposite  side,  and  then,  the  whole  Com 
mand  under  Mosby's  lead,  forded  the  stream.  Mosby 
had  dismounted  a  few  of  the  men  who  had  carbines, 
which  they  had  picked  up  somewhere,  and  started 
them  in  ahead  of  the  rest  to  wade  the  river  and  act  as 
a  sort  of  long-range  advance  guard.  The  higher  the 
water  came  up  around  them  the  more  exasperated  they 
became,  especially  as  sharp-shooters  on  the  other  side 
were  trying  to  pick  them  off.  There  was  one  stand 
ing  on  the  bridge  that  crossed  the  canal  on  the  Mary 
land  side,  where  we  could  see  him  loading  and  firing, 
and  every  shot  striking  annoyingly  near  our  men. 
The  Colonel  rode  up  to  one  of  our  dismounted  men, 
Emory  Pitts,  and  asked: 

"  Pitts,  can  you  stop  that  Yankee  over  there  from 
sucking  eggs?  " 

"  I'll  try,"  answered  Pitts ;  and  standing  there  with 
93 


94  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

the  water  up  to  his  breast,  he  raised  his  carbine  and 
fired;  the  sharpshooter  fell. 

Reaching  the  Maryland  side  we  found  that  the 
bridge  across  the  canal  had  been  torn  up,  but  repaired 
it  so  the  men  could  cross.  We  attacked  the  garrison, 
drove  it  out,  captured  the  camp  and  a  lot  of  stores, 
destroyed  all  the  Government  property,  burned  a 
freight-boat,  cut  the  wires,  helped  ourselves  to  every 
thing  we  could  handle,  and  came  back  to  the  Virginia 
side  in  safety,  bringing  our  prisoners  with  us. 

All  this  Fourth  of  July  celebrating  was  decidedly 
annoying  to  the  enemy,  and  it  kept  us  busy  all  fore 
noon.  The  afternoon  was  spent  in  getting  things 
straightened  out  after  the  frolic  and  late  the  next  day, 
after  operating  along  the  Potomac  in  sight  of  the  en 
emy  all  day,  hearing  that  Major  Forbes,  with  the 
Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  was  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood  and  looking  for  us,  we  started  towards 
Leesburg  and  stopped  for  the  night.  A  scouting 
party  that  had  been  sent  by  Mosby  towards  the  town 
returned  after  nightfall  and  reported  that  Major 
Forbes's  Command,  together  with  some  of  the  Thir 
teenth  New  York  Cavalry  were  encamped  near  Lees- 
burg,  that  the  Major  knew  of  our  raid  at  Point  of 
Rocks,  and  that  he  had  spread  the  report  among  the 
residents  of  Leesburg  that  he  had  Mosby's  men  in  a 
tray  which  he  would  spring  the  next  day,  July  6th. 

This  was  not  the  pleasantest  thing  that  could  have 
been  said  to  us  just  then  and,  for  better  safety,  the 
men  were  ordered  to  saddle  up;  in  the  darkness  we 
moved  in  a  wide  circle  around  the  town  towards 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  95 

Waterford  and  camped  for  the  remainder  of  the  night. 
Whenever  I  use  the  expression  "  camped  for  the 
night,"  I  mean  only  that  we  unsaddled  and  laid  down 
on  the  ground  among  the  horses,  with  saddles  for 
pillows  and  the  starry  firmament  for  bed  clothing. 

We  had  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  at  this 
time,  for  a  number  had  gone  back  home  after  the 
Point  of  Rocks  raid.  Undisturbed  by  the  presence 
of  Major  Forbes  in  our  vicinity,  with  no  thought  of 
his  making  an  attack  on  us  at  night,  and  with  the 
desire  to  have  it  out  with  him  by  daylight  in  a  fair 
field,  the  Colonel  and  the  men  slept  soundly  all  night. 
Early  the  next  morning  we  were  up  and  in  the  saddle, 
singing  cheerfully.  We  followed  our  leader  into  Lees- 
burg  where  we  learned  that  the  Major's  Command 
had  moved  towards  Aldie,  a  few  miles  south.  We 
followed,  trying  to  cut  him  off  at  Ball's  Mill,  but  he 
had  already  crossed  the  ford  when  we  arrived  and 
was  headed  for  Mount  Zion  church.  We  took  a 
straight  cut  to  reach  the  turnpike  east  of  Mount  Zion, 
so  as  to  get  in  between  Forbes  and  his  headquarters, 
which  were  at  or  near  Falls  Church  in  Fairfax  coun 
ty.  We  knew  that  he  had  heard  of  our  movements 
and  began  to  suspect  that  he  was  not  half  as  anxious 
to  get  us  into  his  trap  as  he  was  to  keep  out  of 
Mosby's.  When  we  broke  into  the  pike  a  mile  and 
a  half  below  Mount  Zion,  Forbes  had  not  yet  come  in 
sight,  so  we  took  time  to  plant  our  cannon  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  and  arrange  to  receive  him. 

Presently  Forbes  and  his  two  hundred  men  came 
into  view  near  Mount  Zion.  The  Major  did  not  see 


96  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

us  until  he  got  started  down  the  pike  again.  Our 
artillery  squad  which  was  more  or  less  afraid  of  the 
little  twelve-pounder,  yanked  the  lanyard  and  a  shell 
went  howling  up  the  road  only  to  burst  well  out  of 
range  without  doing  the  slightest  damage.  The  two 
Commands  were  then  several  hundred  yards  apart 
and  Major  Forbes  instantly  crossed  with  his  men  into 
a  field  on  the  south  side  of  the  road,  passing  through 
a  gap  in  the  fence.  Here  he  drew  his  entire  Com 
mand  up  in  line  to  await  our  attack  which  he  knew 
was  about  due. 

In  order  to  get  at  him  we  had  to  move  along  the 
road  in  his  front  and  take  the  concentrated  fire  of 
his  men.  Mosby  ordered  us  to  hold  our  fire  until 
we  could  get  into  the  field  and  we  went  along  the  pike 
rather  leisurely,  not  giving  our  horses  full  rein  until 
we  got  through  the  gap  in  the  fence.  Forbes  had  not 
the  same  idea  about  where  the  fight  should  begin. 
His  men  began  raking  us  along  the  road  and  were 
ready  with  more  ammunition  when  we  wheeled  and 
sent  up  the  yell  which  was  so  much  a  part  of  our 
tactics.  That  we  had  better  horses  than  our  oppo 
nents  there  is  not  any  possible  doubt.  At  any  rate  we 
swept  into  their  line  like  a  hurricane,  each  man  with 
a  drawn  six-shooter.  At  first  Forbes'  men  made  a 
good  fight,  but  they  could  not  stand  the  rain  of  our 
pistol  balls.  We  split  their  front  rank  asunder  and 
broke  their  spirit.  Half  of  them,  in  a  mad  and  help 
less  scramble,  got  into  the  next  field,  where  they  ral 
lied  around  Major  Forbes  and  fought  as  gallantly 
as  any  men  could  fight.  We  crashed  into  them  again 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  97 

and  the  battle  became  a  hand-to-hand  conflict,  revol 
vers  against  sabres  and  revolvers,  Mosby's  men  dis 
charging  their  weapons  into  the  very  faces  of  Forbes's 
troopers.  It  was  a  mass  of  struggling,  cursing  mani 
acs,  each  striving  to  slay  his  antagonist.  Some  of  this 
same  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  were  the  men 
we  had  met  at  Dranesville  on  February  22  previously. 

Major  Forbes  occupied  the  centre  of  the  action, 
standing  in  his  stirrups  with  sabre  drawn,  fighting 
desperately.  He  thrust  his  sabre  through  the  shoul 
der  of  Captain  Tom  Richards  who  had  marked  him 
for  single  combat.  Richards  snapped  his  pistol  in  the 
Major's  face,  but  it  failed  to  explode.  In  that  instant 
a  bullet  ripped  into  Forbes's  horse,  and  he  went  down 
under  the  dying  animal,  pinned  helplessly,  and  had 
to  surrender.  One  of  his  officers,  Lieutenant  Amory, 
now  a  prominent  citizen  of  Boston,  fell  side  by  side 
with  his  Commander,  while  his  men  were  flying  in 
every  direction.  To  show  how  we  were  interwoven 
with  the  enemy  it  may  be  mentioned  that  one  of  our 
boys,  Willie  Martin,  was  so  closely  surrounded  by 
Forbes's  men  that  they  were  obliged  to  club  him  into 
insensibility  because  there  was  no  room  to  fire  a  car 
bine  with  safety  to  their  own  men. 

When  Forbes  and  Amory  fell,  their  men  were  get 
ting  into  full  rout  with  Mosby  at  their  heels.  The 
flight  and  the  pursuit  were  strung  out  from  the  scene 
of  the  first  engagement  to  old  Sudley  Church,  a  dis 
tance  of  ten  miles.  I  followed  Colonel  Mosby  and 
Johnny  Edmonds  over  the  entire  stretch  and  when  we 
returned  we  found  dead  and  wounded  men  and  horses 


98  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

all  along  the  road  and  in  the  fields.  We  found  a  man 
kneeling  near  the  fence  by  the  roadside,  with  his 
head  bent  forward  touching  the  ground  in  front  of 
him  and  his  left  hand  clutching  a  gaping  wound  in 
his  side.  I  was  ordered  to  go  to  his  assistance,  but 
when  I  dismounted  and  tried  to  raise  him  or  ease 
his  position,  I  found  a  corpse. 

The  fighting  and  the  rout  lasted  until  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  there  were  so  many  wounded  men  to 
help,  and  so  many  prisoners  to  look  after,  that  we  did 
not  start  homeward  till  long  after  dark. 

Our  loss  was  seven  wounded,  one  of  whom  died 
later.  Forbes  had  twenty  men  killed  on  the  field  and 
forty  wounded,  about  fifteen  of  them  mortally;  a 
very  handsome  tribute  alike  to  their  staying  qualities 
and  the  accuracy  of  Mosby  markmanship.  Forbes 
also  lost  sixty  prisoners  and  one  hundred  horses. 

Colonel  C.  R.  Lowell,  Jr.,  commanding  the  brigade 
of  which  the  Second  Massachusetts  was  a  part,  said  in 
his  official  report  of  the  fight  that  only  forty-five  men 
got  back  to  camp  alive. 

Although  Tom  Richards  did  his  best  to  kill  the 
Federal  commanding  officer  in  this  fight,  I  am  pleased 
to  record  the  fact  that  we  captured  him  alive,  which 
was  a  much  more  satisfactory  achievement,  because 
Major  William  H.  Forbes  returned  to  Massachusetts 
after  the  war,  and  up  to  the  time  of  his  death,  a  short 
time  ago,  he  was  one  of  the  most  influential,  beloved 
and  respected  citizens  in  that  commonwealth.  I  called 
on  him  several  years  ago  in  his  Boston  office  and  we 
fought  the  war  over  again  with  all  the  zest  at  our 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  99 

command.  In  the  course  of  our  conversation  he  put 
his  hand  on  my  knee  and  said :  "  Tell  me,  Munson, 
how  is  my  old  friend,  Tom  Richards  ?  "  Surely  to 
recall  Tom  Richards  as  his  friend  was  enough  to 
convince  any  listener  that  the  North  and  the  South 
are  again  united. 

Charley  Dear  sent  me  the  following  story  of  a  little 
side  issue  which  fits  in  very  well  with  the  story  of 
the  Mount  Zion  fight: 

On  the  evening  of  the  Fourth  of  July,  1864,  after 
Colonel  Mosby  had  captured  the  Point  of  Rocks  and 
the  Command  had  returned  to  the  south  side  of  the 
Potomac  river  the  Colonel  ordered  Wat  Bowie  to 
take  ten  men  and  recross  the  river  and  to  cut  the 
telegraph  wires  and  to  stir  up  the  Yankees.  The 
men  who  composed  the  scouting  party  were  Jim  Wilt 
shire,  Charley  Dear,  Steney  Mason,  Bush  Underwood, 
Carlisle,  Jim  Lowndes,  Ned  Gibson,  Clay  Adams, 
Monroe  Heiskell,  and  Kane.  They  crossed  the  Po 
tomac  river  at  Edwards's  Ferry,  swimming  the  river 
part  of  the  way.  After  they  crossed  they  cut  the 
telegraph  wires  and  went  down  the  river  on  the  tow- 
path.  When  they  came  to  the  aqueduct  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Monocacy  river  they  found  it  guarded  by  some 
of  the  troops  of  the  Eighth  Illinois.  They  charged 
down  the  tow-path  in  single  file,  Bowie  leading  the 
way.  They  went  over  the  flag-stones  at  a  dead  run, 
the  enemy  on  the  other  side  of  the  canal  firing  at 
them.  If  a  man  or  a  horse  had  been  wounded  there 
it  would  have  been  death  to  him,  with  the  river  on 
the  right,  twenty  feet  below,  and  the  canal  on  their 


ioo  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

left;  but  fortunately  the  Yankees  did  not  hurt  any 
of  them.  Bowie  ordered  Heiskell  and  Kane  to  stand 
on  the  aqueduct,  and  fire  at  the  enemy,  while  our 
men  charged  down  the  tow-path  and  came  on  the  road 
under  the  aqueduct,  where  they  found  some  of  the 
enemy  disputing  their  way.  Wiltshire,  Dear  and 
Mason  each  dropped  a  man  and  then  charged  down 
the  road  to  the  store  where  they  found  four  canal 
boats  tied  up,  which  they  burned,  and  also  captured 
a  few  horses.  After  loading  down  their  horses  with 
goods  they  started  to  return,  as  they  had  stirred  up 
a  hornet's  nest.  Up  the  towpath  they  went  at  a  dead 
run,  with  calico  streaming,  shoes  scattering  in  every 
direction,  and  hoop-skirts,  of  which  they  had  captured 
a  goodly  number,  flying  in  the  air,  the  Eighth  Illinois, 
from  their  camp  at  Muddy  Branch,  a  mile  below, 
coming  after  them,  as  they  could  see  by  the  dust. 

Cole's  battalion  had  returned  to  the  Point  of  Rocks, 
and  were  coming  down  to  cut  them  off  from  Ed- 
wards's  Ferry.  Wiltshire  called  to  Bowie  to  look  be 
hind  at  what  was  coming,  as  the  dust  seemed  to  be 
nearing  them.  Bowie  said :  "  Yes,  they  are  in  front, 
too;  we  are  between  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea."  Cut 
off  from  Edwards's  Ferry,  with  the  Potomac  on  one 
side  and  the  canal  on  the  other,  death  or  capture 
seemed  to  be  inevitable. 

Among  the  prisoners  was  a  negro  about  fifty  years 
of  age.  Wiltshire  said :  "  If  you  will  show  us  the 
way  out  of  here  we  will  turn  you  loose  and  give 
you  a  horse  and  money  and  goods."  To  their  sur 
prise  he  said  they  were  close  to  a  riffle,  where  they 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  101 

could  ford,  and  that  he  would  take  them  across,  which 
he  did.  The  dust  from  both  directions  was  coming 
nearer  and  nearer,  but  the  old  negro  got  them  over 
safely;  soon  after  they  entered  the  brush  the  enemy 
met  in  the  tow-path,  but  our  men  were  in  old  Virginia 
again. 

Jim  Lowndes  was  so  much  delighted  with  getting 
home  that  he  embraced  the  old  negro  and  blessed  him ; 
he  and  Heiskell  began  to  sing  "  I  am  going  back  to 
old  Virginia  shore,"  and  all  joined  in.  The  boys  gave 
the  old  negro  what  they  promised  him  and,  after  he 
received  his  reward,  he  raised  his  hat  and  said :  "  Mars 
Bowie,  when  you  and  Mars  Dear  and  Mars  Wiltshire 
and  the  other  gentlemen  come  again,  let  me  know  and 
I  will  help  you  out :  I  am  rich."  The  boys  had  made 
him  rich  indeed,  and  as  they  rode  off  he  was  waving 
his  hat  to  them. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT 

ON  the  7th  of  August,  1864,  Major-General  Philip 
H.  Sheridan  assumed  command  of  the  Middle 
Military  Division  of  the  Federal  Army,  with 
headquarters  at  Harper's  Ferry,  Virginia.  Colonel 
Mosby  set  to  work  on  a  large  scale  to  "  annoy  "  Sheri 
dan.  On  the  1 3th  Mosby  took  three  hundred  of  his 
Command,  the  largest  number  he  had  ever  had  in  any 
single  engagement  up  to  that  time,  and  marched  from 
Upperville  in  Fauquier  county  over  into  the  valley. 
We  went  into  camp  about  midnight  not  far  from  Ber- 
ryville  in  Clark  county  a  maneuver  which  consisted  of 
unsaddling  our  horses  and  lying  down  on  the  landscape 
to  sleep.  Scouts  sent  out  to  look  the  situation  over 
presently  returned  with  the  information  that  a  wagon 
train  was  moving  up  the  pike  a  few  miles  distant. 
[While  John  Russell,  our  most  prominent  valley  scout, 
was  reporting  to  the  Colonel,  I  was  engaged  just  at 
that  moment  in  trying  to  spread  my  saddle  blanket 
among  the  rocks  and  tree  roots,  so  it  would  resemble 
a  curled  hair  mattress  as  nearly  as  possible.  I  stopped 
for  a  moment  to  listen  to  John's  report,  hoping  secret 
ly  that  it  did  not  mean  any  change  in  the  camping  pro 
gram,  but  my  hopes  faded  away  when  the  Colonel 
said: 

"  Saddle  up,  Munson,  and  come  along  with  me." 

102 


THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT 


103 


Taking  a  few  more  of  us,  we  started  off  for  the 
Valley  turnpike,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  Command  to 
get  some  much  needed  sleep.  We  struck  out  in  the 
direction  whence,  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  came 
the  rumbling  echoes  of  the  heavily  laden  wagons.  In 
olden  times,  when  the  stages  were  run  up  and  down 
the  valley  turnpike,  it  was  said  that  the  rumbling  of 
the  coach  on  the  hard,  rocky  road  could  be  heard  for 
miles  on  a  still  night  and,  on  this  quiet  August  night 
of  which  I  am  writing,  we  heard  the  wagon  train  long 
before  we  came  in  sight  of  it,  which  we  did  in  an 
hour  after  Russell  reported  to  the  Colonel.  We  found 
a  long  line  of  wagons  winding  along  the  road  and 
stretching  away  into  the  darkness  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  We  rode  among  the  drivers  and  the 
guards,  looking  the  stock  over  and  chatting  with  the 
men  in  a  friendly  way.  I  asked  one  of  the  cavalry 
men  for  a  match  to  light  my  pipe  and  he  gave  it  to 
me,  and  when  I  struck  it,  revealing  his  face  and  mine 
by  its  light,  he  did  not  know  I  was  pretty  soon  going 
to  begin  chasing  him.  It  was  too  dark  to  distinguish 
us  from  their  own  men  and  we  mingled  with  them  so 
freely  that  our  presence  created  no  suspicion. 

Colonel  Mosby  asked  them  whatever  questions  he 
chose  to,  and  learned  that  there  were  one  hundred 
and  fifty  wagons  in  the  train,  with  more  than  a  thou 
sand  head  of  horses,  mules,  and  cattle  guarded  by 
about  two  thousand  men,  consisting  of  two  Ohio 
regiments  and  one  Maryland  regiment,  besides  cav 
alry  distributed  along  the  line;  all  under  orders  of 
Brigadier-General  Kenly,  commanding.  Having 


104  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

pumped  the  men  dry  of  all  the  information  he  needed, 
the  Colonel  withdrew  us  from  their  line  into  the  field, 
one  by  one,  and  sent  me  back  to  our  sleeping  comrades 
to  arouse  them  and  bring  the  full  force  up  in  a  hurry. 
Just  as  'day  was  beginning  to  dawn  Chapman  and 
Richards,  with  the  whole  Command  of  about  three 
hundred  men  and  two  pieces  of  light  artillery,  twelve- 
pounders,  came  out  of  the  woods  on  a  run  and  met 
the  Colonel,  who  was  impatiently  awaiting  them  in 
full  view  of  the  wagon  train.  I  believe  it  was  one  of 
these  little  guns  that  made  so  much  noise  and  did  so 
little  harm  at  Mount  Zion  Church  on  July  6,  but  I 
am  not  sure. 

In  the  hurried  rush  through  the  woods  to  get  to  the 
Colonel,  or  immediately  after  it  was  fired,  I  don't  re 
member  which,  one  of  these  guns  commanded  by 
Lieutenant  Frank  Rahm  of  Richmond,  was  disabled 
and  drawn  out  of  the  way.  The  other  was  posted  on 
a  little  eminence  looking  down  on  the  turnpike  along 
which  the  wagon  train  was  moving.  A  streak  of  light 
broke  in  the  east,  and  our  force  was  hustled  into 
position,  Mosby  giving  his  instructions  to  the  Com 
mand.  His  trouble  seemed  to  be  to  keep  the  men 
from  charging  before  he  was  ready.  Three  hundred 
against  over  two  thousand  meant  carefulness.  The 
flush  of  the  morning  began  to  blow  over  that  beautiful 
valley  landscape, —  there  are  few  lovelier  spots  than 
the  Valley  of  Virginia  around  Berryville, —  and  down 
on  the  pike  we  saw  a  cloud  of  dust  rising  as  though 
a  giant  serpent  was  creeping  along  towards  Berryville 
from  Harper's  Ferry.  The  entire  train  was  soon  in 


THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT  105 

sight,  all  unmindful  of  our  presence.  From  our  posi 
tion  on  the  low  hill,  while  we  watched  them  in  breath 
less  suspense,  Frank  Rahm  sent  a  twelve-pound  shell 
over  the  train.  It  exploded  like  a  clap  of  thunder 
out  of  a  clear  sky,  and  was  followed  by  another  which 
burst  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy.  The  whole  train 
stopped  and  writhed  in  its  centre  as  if  a  wound  had 
been  opened  in  its  vitals.  Apparently  its  guards  did 
not  see  us  and  we  got  another  charge  into  the  little 
twelve-pounder  and  let  it  fly,  and  then;  oh  then! 
What  on  earth  ever  possessed  them  I  am  unable  even 
at  this  date  to  say.  Two  thousand  infantry  and  a 
force  of  cavalry  all  at  sea,  but,  as  with  one  mind,  and 
without  making  the  least  concerted  resistance,  the  train 
began  to  retreat.  Then  we  rushed  them,  the  whole 
Command  charging  from  the  slope,  not  in  columns, 
but  spread  out  all  over  creation,  each  man  doing  his 
best  to  outyell  his  comrade  and  emptying  revolvers, 
when  we  got  among  them,  right  and  left. 

The  whole  wagon  train  was  thrown  into  panic. 
Teamsters  wheeled  their  horses  and  mules  into  the 
road  and,  plying  their  black-snake  whips,  sent  the  ani 
mals  galloping  madly  down  the  pike,  crashing  into 
other  teams  which,  in  turn,  ran  away.  Infantry 
stampeded  in  every  direction.  Cavalry,  uncertain 
from  which  point  the  attack  came,  bolted  backward 
and  forward  without  any  definite  plan.  Wounded 
animals  all  along  the  train  were  neighing  and  braying, 
adding  to  the  confusion.  Pistols  and  rifles  were  crack 
ing  singly  and  in  volleys. 

Colonel  Mosby  was  dashing  up  and  down  the  line 


106  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

of  battle  on  his  horse,  urging  the  men  by  voice  and 
gesture.  I  never  saw  him  quite  so  busy  or  so  inter 
ested  in  the  total  demolition  of  things. 

Before  the  attack  he  expressed  the  hope  and  the 
belief  that  his  men  would  give  Kenly  the  worst  whip 
ping  any  of  Sheridan's  men  ever  got,  and  it  delighted 
him  to  see  the  work  progressing  so  satisfactorily. 
At  several  points  along  the  line  Kenly's  men  made 
stands  behind  the  stone  fences,  and  poured  volleys 
into  us  but,  when  charged,  they  invariably  retreated 
from  their  positions.  The  conflict  was  strung  out 
over  a  mile  and  a  half,  which  was  the  length  of  the 
wagon  train  when  the  fight  was  at  its  best.  Our 
men  were  yelling,  galloping,  charging,  firing,  stam 
peding  mules  and  horses  and  creating"  pandemonium 
everywhere.  It  was  not  long  before  we  had  the  en 
emy  thoroughly  demoralized  and  were  able  to  turn 
our  attention  to  the  prisoners  and  the  spoils. 

Mosby  gave  orders  to  unhitch  all  the  teams  that 
had  not  run  away  and  to  set  fire  to  the  wagons,  and 
very  soon  smoke  and  flames  filled  the  air  and  made 
a  grand  picture.  Among  the  wagons  burned  was  one 
containing  a  safe  in  which  an  army  pay-master  had 
his  greenbacks,  said  to  be  over  one  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars.  We  overlooked  it,  unfortunately,  and 
it  was  recovered  the  next  day  by  the  enemy,  as  we 
always  supposed;  but  there  is  a  story  afloat  in  the 
town  of  Berryville  that  a  shoemaker  who  lived  there 
at  the  time  of  the  fight  got  hold  of  something  very 
valuable  among  the  wreckage  of  our  raid  and  sud 
denly  blossomed  out  into  a  man  of  means,  marrying 


THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT  107 

later  into  one  of  the  best  families  of  the  Valley.  He 
never  would  tell  what  his  new-found  treasure  was. 
Maybe  he  got  the  safe  and  greenbacks. 

By  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  fight  was  over, 
the  enemy  ours,  and  the  wagons  burning.  Then  a 
serious  problem  arose:  how  were  we  to  get  three 
hundred  prisoners,  nearly  nine  hundred  head  of  cap 
tured  stock,  and  the  other  spoils  of  war  out  of  Sher 
idan's  country  into  our  own?  News  of  the  raid  had 
gone  in  every  direction  and  we  were  threatened  with 
an  overwhelming  assault  at  any  moment.  I  should 
have  said  the  problem  was  serious  to  the  men  only. 
Mosby  solved  it  very  promptly  by  saying :  "  We  will 
go  directly  to  Rectortown  and  take  all  the  prisoners 
and  animals  and  booty  with  us."  There  was  not  any 
thing  more  to  be  said  on  the  subject.  Rectortown  lay 
twenty-five  miles  to  the  south,  back  in  Fauquier  coun 
ty.  Stonewall  Jackson's  forced  marches  were  not  in 
it  with  this  one  of  ours.  Our  disabled  cannon  had 
to  be  taken  care  of.  When  Mosby  asked  Frank 
Rahm  what  he  proposed  to  do  with  his  broken-down 
gun,  Frank  promptly  replied;  "I'm  going  to  take  it 
back  home  on  the  other  gun,  if  I  have  to  hold  it 
there,"  and  he  did. 

We  fastened  the  loose  harness  as  best  we  could 
and,  herding  the  animals  into  one  drove,  started  at  a 
trot  down  the  pike  towards  the  Shenandoah  river 
several  miles  away.  It  was  the  most  extraordinary 
procession  that  ever  headed  for  that  historic  stream; 
our  captives  were  on  foot  while  we  were  mounted, 
the  victors  and  vanquished  chatting  freely  together 


io8  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

and  speculating  on  the  trip  before  them.  A  number  of 
the  Rangers,  in  a  spirit  of  gayety,  had  decked  them 
selves  out  in  the  fine  uniforms  found  in  the  baggage 
of  the  Northern  officers.  Some  of  the  coats  were 
turned  inside  out  so  as  to  display  the  fine  linings. 
From  one  of  the  wagons  we  had  resurrected  a  lot 
of  musical  instruments  and  the  leaders  of  the  mounted 
vanguard  made  the  morning  hideous  with  attempts  to 
play  plantation  melodies  on  tuneless  fiddles. 

No  more  motley  throng  ever  came  back  from  a  suc 
cessful  raid.  There  was  a  song  on  every  man's  lips 
and  those  who  had  yelled  or  sung  themselves  hoarse 
waved  captured  flags.  In  the  midst  of  the  nondescript 
legion  the  nine  hundred  head  of  stock,  bellowing, 
neighing,  and  braying,  wallowed  along  in  the  hot 
dust  of  that  August  morning,  the  steam  rising  from 
their  bodies  and  the  saliva  dripping  from  the  mouths 
of  the  fat  steers,  of  which  we  had  nearly  two  hundred 
and  fifty  head.  Down  the  turnpike  into  the  rushing 
Shenandoah,  regardless  of  ford  or  pass,  dashed  the 
whole  cavalcade;  some  swimming,  some  wading, 
others  finding  ferriage  at  the  tail  of  a  horse  or  steer. 
The  orchestra  in  the  lead  scraped  away  bravely  at 
their  fiddles.  Only  the  unhorsing  of  some  of  the 
worst  of  the  performers  saved  them  from  bodily 
violence  at  the  hands  of  their  justly  indignant  com 
rades.  In  a  short  time,  dripping  but  refreshed,  we 
emerged  from  the  stream,  struggled  on  up  the  road 
and  began  the  ascent  of  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains. 

Strange  to  say,  not  a  man  nor  an  animal  was  lost 
in  the  passage.  We  crossed  the  mountain  at  a  break- 


THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT  109 

neck  pace,  made  a  rapid  descent  into  the  Piedmont 
Valley,  and  at  four  o'clock  that  afternoon,  with  all 
hands  present,  the  captured  property  was  divided  at 
Rectortown,  twenty-five  miles  from  the  scene  of  the 
action  fought  on  the  morning  of  the  same  day ! 

Our  loss  in  the  affair  was  two  killed  and  two 
wounded;  the  number  of  the  enemy's  casualties  we 
could  not  ascertain,  but  Major  Wm.  E.  Beardsley  of 
the  Sixth  New  York  Cavalry,  reported  from  Win 
chester  on  the  day  after  the  fight,  to  Colonel  Devine, 
commanding  the  second  Brigade  of  the  first  cavalry 
Division,  as  follows: 

We  were  attacked  by  Mosby  at  'daylight  yesterday 
morning  at  Berryville,  and  a  disgraceful  panic  ensued, 
resulting  in  the  entire  destruction  of  the  reserve  bri 
gade's  train  and  a  portion  of  our's,  with  battery  forges, 
etc.,  the  running  off  of  nearly  all  the  mules,  the  cap 
ture  of  a  large  number  of  prisoners,  the  killing  of  five 
of  our  men,  with  many  wounded. 

We  brought  out  more  than  six  hundred  horses  and 
mules,  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  head  of  fat 
cattle,  and  about  three  hundred  prisoners,  destroying 
more  than  one  hundred  wagons  with  their  valuable 
contents. 

After  dividing  the  horses  and  plunder  among  the 
men  we  sent  the  mules  and  a  large  number  of  cattle 
to  General  Lee  for  the  use  of  the  army.  They  were 
driven  through  Fauquier,  Rappahannock,  Culpeper 
and  Orange  counties,  as  far  as  Gordonsville.  On  my 
return  to  the  Command  from  carrying  reports  and 


no  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

despatches  of  this  affair  to  General  Lee,  I  could  follow 
the  trail  of  the  captured  animals  by  bits  of  broken 
harness,  here  and  there,  for  nearly  the  entire  route. 
By  six  o'clock  that  afternoon  everything  was  in  order 
where  a  short  time  before  all  seemed  to  be  tumult  and 
confusion.  The  horses  were  divided,  the  mules  and 
cattle  corralled  ready  for  their  long  drive,  the  guards 
to  take  the  prisoners  over  to  Gordonsville  had  been 
detailed  and  given  their  instructions  and  the  Com- 
mand  was  disbanded,  and  each  member  was  starting 
home  with  his  share  of  the  spoils,  when  the  Colonel 
came  to  me  and  said : 

"  Munson,  don't  you  want  to  see  your  sweetheart?  " 
I  was  willing.  We  rode  together  to  our  head 
quarters  at  Mr.  Blackwell's,  a  few  miles  distant,  where 
I  got  a  bath  and  a  clean  outfit  and  a  good  supper  and 
a  fresh  horse  and,  with  the  Colonel's  written  de 
spatches,  got  in  the  saddle  and  galloped  to  Warrenton, 
twenty  miles  away.  As  I  was  about  to  leave,  the 
Colonel  put  his  arm  around  my  shoulder  and  said : 
"  Don't  let  the  Command  suffer  while  you  are  gone." 
That  meant,  that  if  occasion  should  arise,  and  I  found 
the  opportunity  to  brag  any  about  our  Command,  or 
to  tell  any  Munchausen  stories,  I  was  to  lie  like  a 
gentleman.  My  instructions,  however,  did  not  in 
clude  these  details,  but  were  to  ride  as  far  as  Warren- 
ton  that  night,  go  to  church  the  next  morning  and 
drive  with  the  young  lady  referred  to,  who  is  now 
and  has  long  been  the  happy  wife  of  a  much  hand 
somer  member  of  our  Command,  and  then  gallop  on 
to  Culpeper  Court  House,  twenty-five  miles,  and  take 


THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT  in 

the  cars  there  for  General  Lee's  headquarters,  then 
near  Petersburg.  I  was  so  utterly  worn  out  by  my 
long  ride  of  two  or  three  days  and  the  loss  of  sleep 
that,  by  the  time  I  had  galloped  and  trotted  fifteen 
miles,  I  could  stand  it  no  longer;  I  unsaddled  and  tied 
my  horse  to  a  sapling  on  the  roadside  and  laid  down 
on  my  saddle  blanket  at  my  horse's  feet  where  I  slept 
till  sunrise,  when  I  got  up  and  galloped  into  Warren- 
ton  as  fresh  as  a  lark. 

At  General  Lee's  headquarters  I  broke  in  on  that 
ragged  crowd  like  a  vision.  I  think  I  was  the  only 
well-dressed  man  in  his  army  at  that  time.  I  had 
on  my  best,  and  it  was  the  best  that  money  could 
buy  in  the  North.  My  boots  came  half  way  up  my 
thighs,  and  my  spurs  were  hand-made  with  silver 
rowels.  My  entire  suit  was  gray  corduroy  trimmed 
with  buff  and  gold  lace,  my  hat  had  a  double  gold 
cord  and  an  ostrich  plume  on  it,  and  I  carried  a  pair 
of  high  gauntlets  carelessly  in  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  I  toyed  with  a  handsome  enamelled  belt  and 
a  pair  of  Colt's  revolvers. 

And  I  was  only  an  humble  private  of  Mosby's  Guer 
rillas,  and  not  nineteen  years  old! 

If  any  officers  or  men  around  the  headquarters  of 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  failed  to  be  impressed 
with  my  appearance  or  with  the  stories  I  related  of 
our  Command  and  its  doings,  it  was  certainly  not 
my  fault.  I  tried  to  obey  the  Colonel's  injunction 
not  to  let  the  Command  suffer,  and  when  I  left  there 
I  believe  every  man  who  saw  and  heard  me  thought  I 
was  only  a  fair  sample  of  our  entire  battalion. 


H2  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

The  result  of  this  raid  was  shown  by  the  rapidity 
with  which  Sheridan  at  once  fell  back  to  his  old  posi 
tion  down  the  Valley,  where  three  days  later  he  re 
ceived  the  following  telegram  from  General  Grant : 

"  When  any  of  Mosby's  men  are  caught,  hang  them 
without  trial." 

No  one  who  is  at  all  familiar  with  Grant's  admira 
tion  for  a  fighter  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  a 
strong  friendship  sprung  up  between  the  two  men 
after  the  war;  that  Mosby  stumped  the  state  of  Vir 
ginia  for  Grant  in  1872,  against  Greeley;  that,  when 
he  became  President,  Grant  offered  appointments  to 
Mosby  which  were  declined  and  that  the  last  auto 
graph  letter  ever  written  by  General  Grant  was  a 
request  to  Mr.  Huntington  to  appoint  Colonel  Mosby 
to  a  good  position  in  the  law  department  of  the  South 
ern  Pacific  Railroad  when  he  returned  to  California 
from  his  Consulship  at  Hong  Kong.  Grant  meant 
it  when  he  said  "  Let  us  have  peace." 

Sheridan's  reply  to  Grant's  telegram  was  as  fol 
lows: 

"  Mosby  has  annoyed  me  and  captured  a  few 
wagons.  We  hung  one  and  shot  six  of  his  men  yes 
terday." 

There  was  no  truth  in  this  statement  that  he  had 
hung  one  and  shot  six  of  our  men  that  day. 

In  the  busiest  part  of  the  Berryville  affair,  when 
teams  were  running  wild  in  every  direction  and  the 
confusion  was  at  its  worst,  Colonel  Mosby  saw  a 
splendid  four-in-hand  team  of  big  bays  attached  to 
a  heavy  portable  army  forge  which  had  become  upset 


THE  BERRYVILLE  FIGHT  113 

on  the  pike  and  from  which  the  horses  were  strug 
gling  in  vain  to  free  themselves.  Turning  to  me  he 
ordered  me  to  take  a  man  and  extricate  the  team  from 
the  tangle  they  were  in,  and  bring  them  out  safely. 
That  sounded  just  as  easy  as  if  he  had  said,  "  Take 
a  cigar,"  but  I  did  not  find  it  so.  I  took  with  me  a 
young  fellow  who  had  joined  the  Command  only  a  few 
days.  When  we  galloped  up  to  the  struggling  team 
and  began  to  untangle  them  we  were  fired  upon  by 
a  lot  of  infantrymen  hidden  behind  a  stone  fence. 
When  the  rain  of  bullets  flattened  against  the  metal 
forge  it  sounded  as  if  there  were  a  thousand  of  them 
and  my  young  companion,  this  being  his  first  engage 
ment,  toppled  over  in  the  road  in  a  dead  faint.  It  was 
no  time  just  then  to  look  after  a  sick  man,  for  our 
horses  were  frantic  with  fear  and  excitement,  and  I 
had  to  hold  both  of  them  when  the  boy  fell.  I  let 
him  lie  where  he  was  and  in  time  got  my  team  un 
tangled  and  tied  securely;  I  was  just  ready  to  lead 
them  out,  when,  very  opportunely,  my  youngster  re 
vived.  Getting  up  in  a  surprised  way  he  jumped  on 
his  horse  and  galloped  off,  leaving  me  to  mount  my 
half  mad  charger  and  get  my  team  out  as  best  I 
could.  That  boy  developed  into  one  of  the  best  sol 
diers  in  the  Command  and,  until  the  end  of  the  war, 
was  up  near  the  front  in  every  engagement.  It  was 
his  baptism  of  blood,  and  his  confirmation  followed 
immediately  after  it.  This  was  one  of  the  ways  a  be 
ginner  had  to  be  initiated  into  our  service. 

While  I  am  in  the  neighborhood  of  Berryville  I  re 
call  a  fight  Captain  A.  E.  Richards  had  only  a  few 


ii4  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

days  after  the  foregoing  affair,  and  almost  on  the 
same  ground,  while  he  was  scouting  with  a  small 
squad  of  men  in  the  Valley.  He  ran  into  a  body  of 
Yankee  cavalry  and  killed  the  commanding  officer, 
Lieutenant  J.  S.  Walker  of  the  First  United  States 
Cavalry;  wounded  and  captured  Lieutenant  Philip 
Dwyer  of  the  Fifth  United  States  Cavalry,  and  cap 
tured  all  the  rest  of  the  squad  but  one.  When  Rich 
ards  reported  to  Colonel  Mosby  on  this  affair  the 
Colonel  replied  that  he  was  glad  one  man  got  away 
so  he  could  tell  Sheridan  what  had  happened  to  the 
rest  of  them. 


CHAPTER  X 

TURNING  THE  TABLES 

THE  neighborhood  of  Harper's  Ferry  was  very 
warm  in  that  month  of  August,  1864.  Sheri 
dan  was  much  irritated  by  the  persistent  annoy 
ance  of  Mosby's  men.  In  fact  the  relations  between 
us  and  the  other  side  were  daily  growing  more  bitter, 
and  General  Grant's  telegram  would  have  been  obeyed 
if  the  Federals  had  captured  any  of  us. 

Among  others  who  wanted  to  have  a  tilt  with  us 
was  Captain  Blazer,  of  Crook's  Division.  The  result 
of  his  uncontrollable  desire  is  set  forth  in  two  war 
despatches  subsequently  published  by  the  Government. 
The  first,  dated  August  2Oth,  1864,  is  from  General 
Sheridan  to  General  Augur,  and  reads: 

"  I  have  one  hundred  picked  men  who  will  take  the 
contract  to  clean  out  Mosby's  gang.  I  want  one  hun 
dred  Spencer  rifles  for  them.  Send  them  to  me  if 
they  can  be  found  in  Washington." 

Captain  Blazer  was  to  command  these  one  hundred 
men  who  stood  ready  to  "  clean  out  Mosby's  gang." 
The  second  despatch  is  dated  at  Harper's  Ferry,  No 
vember  19,  and  is  from  General  Stevenson  to  General 
Forsythe.  It  follows: 

"  Two  of  Captain  Blazer's  men  came  in  this  morn 
ing,  privates  Harris  and  Johnson.  They  report  that 


Ii6  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Mosby  attacked  Blazer  near  Kabletown  yesterday 
about  eleven  o'clock.  They  say  the  entire  Command 
with  the  exception  of  themselves  were  either  captured 
or  killed." 

It  may  be  interesting  to  know  just  what  developed 
between  the  dates  of  the  two  telegrams.  Captain 
Blazer  thought,  and  General  Sheridan  agreed  with 
him,  that  the  Northern  army  could  find  some  work  for 
a  husky  little  guerrilla  band  of  its  own  to  fight  the 
devil  with  fire,  as  it  were.  The  Captain  was  put  at 
the  head  of  one  hundred  picked  men,  selected  by  him 
self  from  Crook's  entire  division,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
he  succeeded  in  getting  some  fine  material.  He  was 
provided  with  his  Spencer  rifles  and,  shortly  after  the 
2Oth  of  August,  started  to  work.  He  began  under 
very  favorable  conditions,  as  Colonel  Mosby  was  busy 
with  bigger  game  than  Blazer  all  during  the  summer 
and  autumn  of  1864,  and  paid  little  heed  to  the  buz 
zing  of  the  new  Captain's  wings  around  our  doors. 
Blazer  went  to  work  at  once,  coming  after  us  in  our 
own  territory,  surprising  a  few  of  the  Rangers  here 
and  there  and  generally  whipping  them.  His  first 
official  report  was  that  he  had  captured  one  Mosby 
man  after  chasing  the  Guerrillas  three  miles. 

Early  in  September  while  on  a  scouting  expedition 
in  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  he  surprised  one  of  our 
scouting  parties  under  Lieutenant  Joe  Nelson  and 
gave  it  a  good  whipping,  killing  two  men,  wounding 
five  and  taking  five  prisoners.  Blazer  reported  one 
killed  and  six  wounded  in  the  engagement.  If  he  only 
had  one  man  killed  we  knew  where  to  locate  the 


TURNING  THE  TABLES  117 

fatality,  for  in  the  running  fight  a  Blazer  man  rode  up 
alongside  of  Emory  Pitts,  of  our  company  "  B  "  and 
snapped  a  pistol  at  his  head  but  it  missed  fire.  Pitts 
greatly  surprised  to  find  his  brains  were  still  intact 
used  them  with  rapidity.  He  leaned  from  his  saddle, 
seized  his  antagonist  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  with  his 
left  hand,  lifted  the  man  from  his  saddle  almost  over 
on  to  his  own  lap  and  with  his  right  hand  held  a 
revolver  under  his  captive's  breast  and  fired  a  bullet 
through  him,  dropping  the  corpse  to  the  ground  as  he 
galloped  away.  The  soldier  happened  to  fall  on  one 
of  our  men  who  had  been  unhorsed  and  who  was  ly 
ing,  half  hidden  among  the  rocks,  playing  possum. 
He  reported  that  the  body  that  dropped  from  Pitt's 
grip  after  the  shot  was  fired  never  so  much  as  quivered. 
Death  came  on  swift  wings  to  that  poor  fellow.  But 
that  is  war. 

I  don't  remember  ever  hearing  Mosby  mention 
Blazer's  name  or  make  any  reference  to  his  move 
ments,  until  he  finally  ordered  Major  Richards  to  go 
over  to  the  Valley  and  wipe  him  from  the  map. 
Mosby  treated  his  forays  into  our  territory  merely 
as  incidents  of  our  regular  life  as  Partisan  Rangers. 
To  him,  Blazer  and  his  men  were  "  a  raiding  party  of 
Yankees."  We  made  no  special  attempts  to  capture 
him,  nor  any  special  pains  to  keep  out  of  his  way. 
During  those  three  eventful  months  in  our  history  we 
were  after  bigger  game,  and  the  stakes  were  always 
higher  than  "  a  Captain  and  one  hundred  picked  men." 
In  fact  they  were  General  Phil.  Sheridan  and  his 
Army;  and  nobody  knew  better  than  Sheridan  how 


n8  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

often  we  won  part  of  the  stakes.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
a  foe  to  be  reckoned  with,  and  the  boys  who  had  felt 
his  hard  knocks  remembered  it  against  a  day  of  reckon 
ing. 

On  the  tenth  of  November,  Captain  Mont  joy  took 
his  Company  to  the  Shenandoah  Valley  and,  early  the 
next  day,  attacked  a  company  of  Federal  Cavalry  on 
the  pike  between  Winchester  and  Newtown.  He 
defeated  them,  capturing  about  twenty  of  them  with 
their  horses,  and  recrossed  the  river  near  Berry's 
Ferry.  All  but  thirty  had  started  for  their  homes 
when  suddenly  Blazer's  hundred  men  made  a  fierce  at 
tack.  In  less  time,  almost,  than  it  takes  to  tell  it, 
they  recaptured  the  prisoners  and  horses,  killed  two  of 
our  men,  wounded  five  others  and  galloped  away,  while 
Montjoy  and  his  badly  whipped  men  sought  much 
needed  cover  in  the  direction  of  the  river. 

It  happened  that,  at  the  time  the  news  of  this  affair 
reached  Colonel  Mosby,  Companies  A  and  B  of  our 
Command  had  nothing  special  to  do.  The  Colonel 
summoned  Major  A.  E.  Richards  and  told  him  to  take 
some  of  the  men  of  each  company  over  into  the  Valley 
and,  "  Wipe  Blazer  out !  go  through  him."  He  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  go  in  person  to  command  the 
men  of  A  and  B  for,  whenever  he  told  Richards  to 
do  anything,  no  matter  how  difficult,  and  especially  if 
A  and  B  went  along,  Richards  was  sure  to  do  it. 
Mosby  has  claimed  full  credit  for  the  victories  achieved 
by  his  officers  when  they  worked  by  his  direction. 
He  argued  that  he  had  the  judgment  not  only  to  dictate 
the  work,  and  the  manner  of  doing  it,  but  also  the 


TURNING  THE  TABLES  119 

discrimination  to  pick  the  officers  best  suited  to  the 
work.  And  every  officer  of  the  Command  was  glad 
to  have  our  Colonel  get  the  honor. 

Major  Richards  started  on  the  seventeenth  of  No 
vember  with  one  hundred  Rangers  to  look  for  Blazer. 
Most  of  his  men  were  specially  anxious  to  set  eyes  on 
the  Northener  who  had  turned  the  trick  so  neatly  on 
Mont  joy  and  Nelson.  They  were  not  picked  men, 
however,  but  just  plain,  ordinary,  every-day  A  and 
B  Guerrillas.  When  he  reached  Castleman's  Ferry 
he  heard  that  Blazer  was  then  on  one  of  his  raids,  hav 
ing  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  finish  the  contract  about 
which  Sheridan  had  wired  Augur  nearly  three  months 
before.  Our  men  located  him  in  camp  near  Kable- 
town,  a  favorite  stopping  place  of  his,  in  Jefferson 
county,  West  Virginia.  Major  Richards  preferring  a 
daylight  fight  with  him,  where  there  would  be  no 
odds  in  our  favor,  camped  near  him.  In  the  morning 
the  men  were  so  anxious  for  a  final  settlement  of  old 
scores  with  Blazer  and  his  Command,  that  they  did  not 
wait  for  breakfast,  but  at  sunrise  charged  into  Kable- 
town  only  to  find  that  Blazer  had  left  but  shortly  before 
and  was  looking  for  them. 

When  both  sides  were  out  for  scalps  and  each  look 
ing  for  the  other,  the  end  could  not  be  far  off,  and  it 
took  only  a  few  hours  to  find  the  blue  column.  Rich 
ards  turned  his  men  from  the  road  to  draw  Blazer  into 
the  field  but  Blazer  was  busy  taking  down  the  fence 
and  dismounting  his  men  so  as  to  use  his  carbines  at 
long  range.  This  was  a  good  sign.  If  he  had  been 
spoiling  for  a  fight  he  would  have  charged  Richards  in 


120  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

the  road  but  he  was  apparently  just  as  careful  as  our 
Major.  It  also  meant  a  carefully  planned  conflict  if 
he  could  have  his  way.  But  Richards  upset  his  calcula 
tions  by  dividing  his  men  and  starting  off  with  half  of 
them  as  if  retreating.  Blazer  swallowed  the  bait  and 
ordered  his  men  to  mount  and  charge.  It  puts  a  lot 
of  courage  into  a  cavalry  company  to  see  the  enemy 
galloping  away.  When  his  men  got  entirely  clear  of 
the  woods  and  into  the  open  where  there  was  nothing' 
in  the  way  of  either  party,  Richards  turned  suddenly, 
and  our  two  divisions  charged  simultaneously. 

Blazer's  men  used  their  Spencer  rifles  until  our  men 
got  close  up  to  them  when  they  dropped  them  and  drew 
revolvers.  Richards's  attack  was  very  much  like  a 
dynamite  explosion  at  close  range,  inasmuch  as  it  was 
entirely  unexpected ;  for,  while  there  is  no  doubt  Blazer 
counted  on  a  fight,  and  really  wanted  one,  he  had 
made  no  preparations  whatever  for  a  massacre,  and 
that  is  what,  all  of  a  sudden,  seemed  to  be  imminent, 
for  Richards  and  his  men  looked  and  acted  like  a  band 
of  Apaches.  Blazer's  men  broke  before  our  on 
slaught,  defying  all  their  Commander's  efforts  to  rally 
them  as  they  saw  their  ranks  thinning,  and,  in  a  few 
minutes  the  flight  became  a  panic  and  a  rout.  Rich 
ards  was  in  their  midst,  each  of  his  men  apparently 
picking  out  a  special  victim.  They  were  fading  away 
before  our  deadly  fire,  and  Blazer,  catching  the  infec 
tion  of  retreat  from  his  men,  did  the  fastest  riding  of 
his  life. 

One  of  our  men,  Syd  Ferguson,  who  rode  one  of  the 
handsomest  and  best  animals  in  our  Command,  marked 


TURNING  THE  TABLES  121 

Blazer  for  his  own  and,  touching  his  mare,  Fashion, 
lightly  with  the  spur,  was  soon  at  the  Captain's  side, 
ordering  him  to  surrender.  His  pistols  had  been  emp 
tied  in  the  fight  and  as  the  Captain  did  not,  or  could  not 
stop,  Syd  knocked  him  from  his  horse  as  he  dashed 
by.  As  soon  as  he  could  check  and  turn  his  mare  he 
rode  back  and  found  his  man  lying  apparently  dead 
in  the  road  but,  thinking  the  blow  of  a  pistol  could 
hardly  have  killed  a  man,  he  got  down  to  examine, 
when  Blazer  got  up  smiling  and  admitted  who  he  was 
and  that  he  was  only  stunned.  He  took  his  medicine 
cheerfully.  His  loss  was  more  than  twenty  men  killed, 
many  more  wounded,  most  of  them  mortally,  and  over 
thirty  taken  prisoners.  General  Stevenson's  despatch 
of  November  30,  heretofore  quoted,  summed  up  the 
situation  briefly  and  truthfully :  "  Two  of  Captain 
Blazer's  men  came  in." 

In  this  connection  I  cannot  pass  over  an  incident 
that,  at  the  time  of  its  occurrence,  was  widely  dis 
cussed  among  our  men.  It  involves  the  Richmond 
boy,  John  Puryear,  that  gallant  dare-devil  youth  of 
whom  I  have  written  in  the  first  installment  of  these 
recollections. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  we  had  balanced  our 
books  with  Blazer,  Puryear  and  Charley  McDonough 
were  ostensibly  scouting  for  Richards  but  really  look 
ing  up  trouble  for  trouble's  sake.  They  were  ap 
proached  by  a  few  men  dressed  in  gray  who  McDon 
ough  instinctively  feared,  believing  them  to  be  some  of 
Blazer's  men.  He  would  not  stay  to  decide  the  mat 
ter  but  turned  and  galloped  away.  John  Puryear, 


122  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA' 

with  his  trust  in  everybody,  stood  his  ground  and 
heard  them  address  him  as  they  came  near,  "  Hello 
Johnny,"  which  completely  disarmed  any  suspicion 
which  he  may  have  had.  When  they  reached  him  they 
pounced  on  him  in  true  Guerrilla  style  and  disarmed 
him.  Then  they  took  him  back  to  Blazer  and  he  was 
turned  over  to  the  tender  mercy  of  Lieutenant  Cole, 
of  Blazer's  Command,  who  gave  orders  that  steps  be 
taken  to  extract  information  from  the  prisoner.  He 
was  brow-beaten,  cuffed  and  threatened  in  a  fruitless 
effort  to  loosen  his  tongue.  Finally  a  halter  was  put 
around  his  neck  and  he  was  drawn  up  in  the  air,  clear 
of  his  toes,  several  times;  but  Cole  finally  wearied  of 
his  attempt  to  make  the  boy  tell  anything  and  ordered 
him  to  mount  the  worst  horse  they  had  and  follow 
Blazer  and  his  men.  The  beast  was  so  weary  that 
Puryear  had  no  difficulty  in  making  it  appear  that 
movement  was  next  to  impossible,  a  state  of  affairs  that 
justified  him  in  requesting  permission  to  dismount  and 
cut  a  stick  big  enough  to  induce  the  animal  to  step 
lively.  No  objection  was  offered,  and  Puryear  pro 
ceeded  to  get  a  club  that  was  about  right  for  the 
plans  that  were  forming  in  his  mind. 

It  was  not  long  before  Mosby's  men  came  into  view, 
and  Blazer  ordered  the  boy  to  the  rear.  This  did  not 
suit  him  at  all,  and  he  insisted  on  staying  where  he 
was,  up  near  the  front.  There  was  no  time  to  argue, 
for  the  long  looked  for  moment  had  come.  Puryear 
stayed.  Richards  told  his  men  to  watch  him  and  try 
not  to  shoot  him  when  they  came  together;  and  one 
of  our  men,  Graf  Carlisle,  yelled  encouragingly  to  Pur- 


TURNING  THE  TABLES  123 

year  to  "  keep  his  spirits  up,  for  everything  would  be 
lovely  by-and-bye." 

At  the  moment  Richards's  men  came  swinging  down 
on  Blazer  in  two  divisions,  Puryear  rose  in  his  stirrups, 
let  out  his  rebel  yell  and,  with  a  swinging,  back-hand 
movement,  dealt  his  guard  a  killing  blow  in  the  face 
with  his  club.  Then  he  slipped  from  his  horse  in  the 
thick  of  the  melee,  stripped  his  fallen  enemy  of  his 
pistols,  remounted  on  the  fellow's  horse  and  lit  into  the 
ranks  of  Blazer's  crowd  which  surrounded  him  with  an 
expression  of  ferocity  that  it  is  impossible  to  describe. 
His  black  eyes  literally  blazed  and,  with  the  perspira 
tion  standing  on  his  forehead,  his  jaws  set,  and  his 
whole  face  livid,  he  started  on  his  errand  of  vengeance. 

Nearly  every  man  in  our  Command  saw  him  swirl 
into  the  fight.  His  rage  was  something  terrible  to 
look  upon.  Presently  his  eye  found  Lieutenant  Cole 
and  without  delay  he  was  after  him.  He  chased  that 
Federal  officer  around  the  old  blacksmith's  shop  and 
overtook  him  just  at  the  moment  he  was  surrendering 
to  John  Alexander,  now  a  prominent  attorney  of  Lees- 
burg,  Va.,  who  tried  to  restrain  Puryear  from  wreak 
ing  his  vengeance  upon  a  man  who  had  quit.  But 
Puryear  declared  that  Cole  had  ordered  him  hanged, 
and  had  abused  him,  a  charge  admitted  by  Cole.  The 
next  instant  Puryear  fired  his  pistol  into  Cole's  chest 
and  stood  back  to  contemplate  his  work.  Cole  fell 
limp  and  gasping  against  Alexander's  horse,  sinking 
gradually  to  the  ground.  He  was  dead  in  less  than  a 
minute.  Puryear  burst  out  crying  like  a  child,  and 
collapsed,  sob  after  sob  shaking  his  body.  He  was 


124  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

useless  for  the  rest  of  the  fight.     Nature  had  given  way 
to  the  strain. 

When  Alexander  took  Cole's  pistols  from  his  body 
he  found  them  both  empty.  It  is  only  fair  to  say,  how 
ever,  that  Puryear  did  not  know  this  till  Alexander 
told  him;  in  other  words  until  he  had  wreaked  his 
ghastly  vengeance.  Puryear  at  the  time  was  not  out 
of  his  teens. 

In  1865,  when  most  of  our  men  went  over  in  a 
body  to  General  Hancock's  headquarters  in  the  Valley 
of  Virginia,  to  surrender,  Blazer  and  Syd  Ferguson 
met  and  hugged  each  other  like  long  lost  brothers. 

Blazer  furnished  a  striking  illustration  of  the  diffi 
culty  of  conducting  Partisan  Ranger  warfare  success 
fully.  He  possessed  advantages  greater  than  Mosby 
in  some  respects.  He  picked  his  men  carefully  from 
an  entire  Division,  and  had  seen  much  hard  service  in 
West  Virginia  before  coming  to  Sheridan,  service  of 
a  kind  to  fit  him  for  coping  successfully  with  us.  His 
entire  Command  was  splendidly  mounted,  armed  and 
equipped.  He  and  his  men  were  brave  and  hardened 
soldiers.  He  had  a  perfect  country  to  operate  in  for 
guerrilla  warfare.  He  had,  singular  to  relate,  rather 
the  good  will  of  the  people,  especially  of  the  Valley, 
for  he  permitted  no  vandalism  among  his  men  and, 
whenever  occasion  arose,  he  was  courteous  and  kind  to 
them.  He  had  the  protection  of  Sheridan's  whole 
army  when  he  was  "  at  home,"  while  we  never  closed 
our  eyes  in  sleep  free  from  liability  to  be  stirred  out 
of  bed  by  him.  If  his  ranks  were  thinned  he  had 
thousands  of  the  same  sort  to  draw  on.  He  need  ride 


LIEUTENANT  W.  BEN.  PALMER  IN  1864. 


TURNING  THE  TABLES  125 

only  thirty  miles  from  his  base  to  be  among  us.  The 
day  he  went  down  he  had  just  as  good  a  chance  to 
whip  us  as  we  had  to  whip  him.  He  had  even  more, 
for  he  was  better  armed  to  resist  an  attack  than  we. 
Seven  shooting  Spencer  rifles  are  not  to  be  despised 
in  the  hands  of  men  who  can  stand  still  and  receive 
an  attack  from  charging  horsemen.  And  yet,  when 
he  was  put  to  the  test  of  a  fair,  open,  stand-up,  hand- 
to-hand  fight,  with  one  of  Mosby's  boy  officers,  and 
only  a  part  of  Mosby's  Command,  he  was  simply  an 
nihilated. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES 

SAMUEL  WAGGAMAN,  who  is  now  a  prominent 
physician  in  Washington  City,  enjoys  the  dis 
tinction  of  being  the  only  man  who  joined  Mos- 
by's  Command  in  Richmond;  he  was  duly  enrolled 
there,  and  transportation  given  him  by  the  War  De 
partment  to  Gordonsville.  His  uncle  was  a  promi 
nent  officer  in  the  Quartermaster's  Department,  and 
when  Sam  enlisted  regularly  in  the  Command  this 
uncle  fitted  him  out  with  gorgeous  jacket  and  trousers 
and  presented  him  to  the  Secretary  of  War.  In  the 
first  fight  he  got  into,  which  was  the  rather  disastrous 
affair  at  Warrenton  Junction,  all  his  finery  disappeared 
in  some  way  and,  when  he  reached  Upperville,  through 
the  help  of  Ned  Hurst,  "  the  old  reliable,"  he  was 
picked  clean.  Ned  Hurst  seemed  to  be  always  on 
hand  ready  to  help  some  youngster  out  of  a  hole.  At 
the  Warrenton  Junction  fight  Sam's  horse  was  shot 
while  our  men  were  retreating,  and  Ned  helped  him 
through.  When  the  Colonel  sent  the  cattle  and  mules 
we  captured  from  Sheridan  on  August  13,  1864,  over 
to  the  regular  army,  Sam  was  one  of  the  detail  to  take 
them.  At  Culpeper  Court  House  he  turned  them  into 
an  enclosure  belonging  to  John  Minor  Botts,  a  promi 
nent  politician  who  had  remained  a  Union  man.  Mr. 

.126 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES  .  127 

Botts  objected  to  the  use  of  his  farm  as  a  corral  for 
rebel  live-stock  and,  but  for  the  timely  arrival  of  Gen 
eral  Stuart,  they  would  not  have  gone  into  the  enclos 
ure.  But  Stuart  ordered  them  in  and  told  Mr.  Botts 
he  was  the  only  man  in  Virginia  who  had  a  fence 
around  his  barn.  So  in  they  went.  Stuart  told  Sam 
if  it  were  not  for  Mosby  all  his  wagons  would  have 
remained  stuck  in  the  mud. 

Sam  was  captured  in  August,  1864,  after  ne  came 
back  from  Culpeper  Court  House  in  a  house  near 
Upperville,  where  he  and  Frank  Darden  had  hidden 
in  a  garret.  Frank  Darden  fell  through  the  ceiling  of 
the  family  living-room  and  lit  in  the  bed  with  the 
lady  of  the  house.  Sam  was  in  the  dark,  and  when  the 
enemy  began  firing  he  offered  to  surrender,  but  none 
of  them  would  take  him.  There  being  nothing  else 
to  do,  he  began  firing  at  them,  and  when  both  his 
pistols  were  empty  he  walked  out  and  they  seized  him. 
He  went  to  Fort  Warren  in  handcuffs,  and  remained 
there  till  June,  1865. 

John  H.  Alexander  had  a  theory,  or  rather  he  had 
several,  about  our  peculiar  warfare.  First,  he  be 
lieved  the  precarious  life  that  we  led  made  us  vigilant., 
alert  and  self-reliant,  so  that  in  action  each  man  was 
an  independent,  intelligent  unit,  and  not  a  mere  autom 
aton  to  be  manoeuvered  by  his  officers.  Second,  he 
believed  the  enemy  dreaded  ambuscades,  and  that  many 
of  our  escapes  were  due  to  their  exceeding  carefulness. 
And,  third,  he  had  an  abiding  faith  in  the  advantage 
we  had  over  the  enemy  in  our  experience  with  the 
pistol.  He  used  to  say,  "  There  is  a  terrible  difference 


128  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

between  shooting  to  scare  and  shooting  to  kill,"  and 
he  thought  it  did  not  require  so  much  nerve  to  charge 
a  platoon  which  was  to  fire  by  volley  according  to 
Hardee's  tactics ;  but  men  had  a  prejudice  against  rid 
ing  towards  the  muzzle  of  a  pistol  which  they  knew 
was  going  to  hit  something  when  it  went  off.  They 
just  would  not  go  up  against  it. 

Now,  allow  these  theories,  and  it  takes  all  the  , 
miraculous  out  of  his  story  of  how  he  held  up  a  whole 
regiment  of  Cavalry  on  an  open  highway,  in  broad 
daylight.  Our  Command  had  gone  down  to  Fairfax 
on  a  raid  the  day  before,  and  this  young  fellow  who 
was  convalescing  from  a  wound  which  he  had  re 
cently  received,  had  been  left  behind.  He  had  re 
covered  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  ride  around  and  take 
notice  of  things ;  and  this  morning  he  had  donned  his 
best  "blockade  goods"  and  started  from  the  Middle- 
burg  neighborhood  to  call  on  some  ladies  at  Dover. 
Between  these  two  points,  at  Macksville,  the  turnpike 
passes  over  a  level  plateau  about  two  hundred  yards 
wide.  It  is  aproached  from  the  Middleburg  side  by  a 
rise  about  the  height  of  a  rider  on  a  horse;  on  the  other 
side  the  road  dips  into  a  considerable  hollow,  deep 
enough  and  wide  enough  to  hide  a  regiment. 

As  he  rode  up  the  hill  from  one  side,  he  saw  the 
heads  of  four  men  abreast  climbing  the  hill  to  the 
plateau  at  the  farther  side.  His  first  impression  was 
that  they  were  some  of  our  men  returning  from 
Fairfax.  But  as  we  never  took  the  chances  of  letting 
men  ride  up  on  us  whom  we  did  not  know,  he  halted 
on  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  drew  out  and  cocked  his 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES     129 

revolver.  As  he  did  so  the  approaching  party  dashed 
towards  him,  yelling  and  shooting.  This  dispelled  his 
doubts  as  to  who  they  were,  and  he  knew  that  he  had 
to  get  away  from  there.  As  he  wheeled  his  horse  he 
concluded  he  would  give  them  an  intimation  not  to 
crowd  him  too  closely  on  his  morning  gallop.  They 
offered  a  beautiful  shot  as  they  came  four  abreast  over 
the  plateau,  and  he  held  his  horse  a  moment  until 
they  got  within  good  range  and  then  let  go  at  the 
nearest  one.  He  saw  his  victim  throw  his  hand  to  his 
head  and  reel  from  his  horse.  His  companions  yielded 
to  that  prejudice  which  I  mentioned  above,  and  the 
promptness  with  which  they  jerked  up  their  horses  pro 
voked  a  laughing  ring  in  the  tones  in  which  our 
Ranger  called  to  them  to  come  on.  But  other  heads 
were  bobbing  up  the  eastern  rim  of  the  level,  and  away 
he  went. 

A  hundred  yards  up  the  road  a  lane  opened  into  the 
pike  at  an  acute  angle  from  the  south.  Ere  he  reached 
the  mouth  of  it,  he  recollected  that  his  horse  had  a 
shoe  off,  and  the  thought  occurred  to  him  that  in  a  long 
chase  up  the  macadamized  road  his  steed  would  go  lame 
and  be  overtaken.  The  lane  would  bring  him  back 
in  some  degree  toward  the  enemy  and  subject  him  to  a 
broadside;  but  he  was  familiar  with  the  ground  and 
knew  that  it  would  be  but  a  short  run  to  the  protection 
of  a  hollow  in  a  piece  of  woods. 

So  he  took  the  chances  of  the  dash.  Sure  enough 
some  Yankees  had  dismounted  on  the  plateau  as  they 
saw  him  turn  into  the  lane,  and  the  whistling  of  the 
bullets  from  their  carbines,  and  their  pit-pat  on  the  rail 


130  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

fence  alongside  him,  made  that  one  of  the  most  ex- 
hilerating  rides  of  his  life.  The  occasion  was  enliv 
ened,  too,  by  an  old  negro,  who  happened  to  be  mend 
ing  the  fence.  As  our  rider  passed  him,  the  slapping 
of  the  bullets  against  the  rails  scared  him  nearly  to 
death,  and  he  fell  on  his  back,  striking  arms  and 
legs  in  the  air  and  hallooing  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
that  he  was  killed.  The  dash  was  over  in  a  minute, 
and  neither  horse,  rider  nor  negro  got  a  scratch. 

When  he  was  out  of  range,  in  a  hollow  in  the  lane, 
Alexander  held  up  his  horse.  He  was  about  three 
hundred  yards  from  the  enemy  and  could  not  hear 
any  signs  of  pursuit.  He  was  unwilling  to  leave  the 
vicinity  without  getting  further  information  and, 
jumping  over  a  fence  into  an  adjoining  field,  he  rode 
up  on  a  hill.  He  saw  the  turnpike  at  Macksville  full 
of  cavalry. 

As  soon  as  he  reappeared  the  long-range  guns 
opened  on  him  again,  and  a  bullet  which  clipped  his 
hat  admonished  him  that  there  was  a  good  marksman 
behind  one  of  them.  Yielding  to  an  indisposition  to 
furnish  a  living  target  for  Uncle  Sam's  sharp-shooters 
to  practice  on,  he  waved  an  adieu  with  his  hat  and 
cantered  off  to  a  piece  of  timber  at  the  far  end  of  the 
field. 

The  Yankees  evidently  thought  the  Ranger  was  wait 
ing  for  them  on  the  turnpike,  for  when  their  van 
guard  first  caught  sight  of  him  he  was  sitting  still  on 
his  horse  on  the  brow  of  the  hill.  His  subsequent 
movements,  which  must  have  appeared  as  eccentric,  to 
say  the  least,  were  interpreted  as  attempts  to  draw 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES     131 

them  on.  Assuming  that  he  was  a  decoy,  they  natu 
rally  concluded  that  the  woods  into  which  he  had  rid 
den  hid  an  ambuscade.  And  while  he  tarried  under 
their  shades  he  saw  the  regiment  brought  up  and 
formed  into  a  battle  line,  skirmishers  deployed,  and 
the  whole  array  move  in  all  pomp  across  the  field  to 
ward  him.  He  could  linger  but  a  short  while,  how 
ever,  to  view  the  striking  pageant.  He  has  assured 
me  that  one  of  the  regrets  of  his  life  has  been  that 
he  could  not  wait  to  witness  their  chagrin  when  they 
reached  the  woods  and  found  that  no  more  serious 
business  awaited  them  than  to  scare  the  birds  from 
the  bushes. 

The  following  contribution  from  Johnny  Alexander 
I  am  sure  will  be  read  with  interest  after  the  fore 
going  article  about  him: 

A  LIVELY  RIDE  BEFORE   BREAKFAST. 

Hugh  Waters  and  I  lived  at  his  mother's  home, 
which  was  situated  about  one  mile  south  of  Middle- 
burg.  Her  house  was  on  the  far  edge  of  a  large 
body  of  timber,  which  extended  more  than  half  way 
to  the  village.  On  the  east  side  of  her  farm,  and 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  house,  ran  the  road 
from  the  Plains  to  Middleburg;  and  about  the  same 
distance  to  the  west  was  the  road  from  Salem  (now 
Marshall)  to  Middleburg. 

During  the  winter  of  1864-5,  there  was  a  heavy 
snow  which  laid  on  the  ground  for  some  weeks  and 
became  covered  with  a  thick  crust.  One  cold  night 


132  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Hugh  and  I  camped  out  in  a  rock-break  on  his  moth 
er's  farm,  within  a  few  yards  of  the  Plains  road;  but 
the  rocky  cliff,  at  the  foot  of  which  we  made  our  bed 
and  tied  our  horses,  and  the  clump  of  trees  about  it, 
hid  us  from  sight  of  the  road.  Indeed,  we  relied  on 
the  cold  weather  to  keep  our  enemies  at  home,  and  the 
warning  which  we  would  get  from  the  sounds  of  their 
traveling  over  the  snow,  if  they  should  have  the  enter- 
prise  to  turn  out. 

We  slept  the  sleep  of  unconscious  innocence.  The 
next  morning  about  sunrise  we  were  awakened  by 
Mrs.  Waters's  negro  man,  Edmond,  with  the  informa 
tion  that  a  large  body  of  Yankees  had  marched  along 
the  Plains  road  a  short  while  before,  had  called  at  the 
house  to  pay  their  respects  to  us,  and  had  gone  on 
towards  Middleburg.  It  is  needless  to  say  we  made 
a  very  hasty  toilet  and  did  not  stand  much  on  the 
order  of  our  going  away  from  there.  We  left  Ed 
mond  to  take  charge  of  our  bedding,  and  hurried  off 
towards  Middleburg  to  take  observations. 

When  we  reached  the  Salem  road  we  met  Lieutenant 
Fount  Beattie  who  had  also  been  induced  to  rise  early 
by  a  party  scouting  uncomfortably  near  his  quar 
ters.  He  assumed  responsibility  for  our  movements, 
and  led  us  on  toward  Middleburg  in  pursuit  of  in 
formation  and,  incidentally,  adventure.  Well,  we  suc 
ceeding  in  finding  both. 

We  followed  the  road  to  the  top  of  a  hill  on  the  edge 
of  the  town  and  saw  the  streets  filled  with  blue-coated 
cavalry.  At  the  same  time  the  wearers  of  the  blue 
coats  saw  us,  and  hastened  to  exchange  greetings  with 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES     133 

us.  We  felt,  however,  that  salutes  at  a  distance  were 
all  that  the  occasion  required  of  us,  and  retired  with 
some  precipitancy  in  the  direction  whence  we  came. 
The  Yankees  insisted  on  closer  relations,  and  pressed 
their  attentions  with  ardor. 

We  were  making  good  our  courteous  purpose  to 
leave  them  in  possession  of  that  neighborhood,  and 
were  getting  out  on  the  Salem  road  in  fine  shape,  when 
we  rose  a  little  hill  about  a  half  a  mile  out.  And 
there,  coming  towards  us,  and  not  more  than  two  hun 
dred  yards  away,  was  a  road  full  of  Yankee  cavalry. 
On  each  side  of  us  was  an  abominable  stone  fence, 
which,  you  know,  very  few  horses  would  jump.  As 
we  pulled  up,  the  enemy  in  front  commenced  paying 
us  attentions.  It  did  look  like  a  hopeless  situation. 

But  Beattie  was  not  the  man  to  give  up  as  long 
as  there  was  daylight  between  him  and  the  toils.  A 
short  distance  behind  us  we  had  passed  a  gap  in  the 
stone  fence  which  would  let  us  into  a  field  and  to  the 
big  woods  beyond  it;  and  our  leader  turned  us  back 
to  it,  as  some  of  the  Salem  party  sprung  up  the  road 
toward  us.  The  pursuers  from  Middleburg  were 
scarcely  within  good  range  as  the  last  one  of  us  jumped 
through  the  gap,  but  a  good  shot  gave  pause  to  the 
foremost  of  them.  Somehow,  both  parties  of  the  Yan 
kees  found  ways  through  the  fence  too;  and  in  a  mo 
ment  the  situation  was  this:  we  three,  running  by  a 
straight  line  for  the  woods,  the  Yankees  to  the  left 
oblique  and  Yankees  to  the  right  oblique,  making  after 
us  with  absolute  assurance  of  running  us  down.  If 
we  should  make  the  woods,  they  were  barren  of  foliage 


134  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

and  almost  as  open  as  the  field.  But  just  within  them 
was  a  hill,  and  just  over  it  —  wTell,  the  Yankees  did 
not  know  what.  And  neither  did  we,  for  that  matter ; 
but  the  religion  of  a  Mosby  man  was  never  to  throw 
up  his  hands  as  long  as  he  could  stick  to  his  horse,  for 
he  trusted  much  to  that  chapter  of  accidents  which 
is  in  every  book  of  Fate.  It  contained  deliverance  for 
us  that  morning. 

The  snow  was  at  least  a  half  foot  deep  and,  as  I  * 
stated,  was  covered  with  a  thick  crust,  and  it  greatly 
affected  the  speed  of  all  parties.  I  was  riding  a  horse 
quite  recently  "  acquired."  I  was  soon  dismayed  to 
find  he  was  falling  behind  and,  what  was  worse,  he 
did  not  seem  to  care  if  he  was.  The  shooting  and 
yelling  and  my  rigorous  application  of  the  spur  made 
no  impression  on  him.  Whether  it  was  actual  leg 
weariness,  sheer  brute  stubbornness  or  the  aroused  af 
finity  for  his  old  companions,  I  do  not  know.  But 
the  cold  fact  is  that,  when  Beattie  and  Waters  rode 
into  the  woods,  my  horse  slowed  down  into  a  walk  and 
was  a  considerable  distance  behind  them. 

The  pursuers  were  then  scarcely  a  hundred  yards 
from  me,  and  were  calling  to  me  in  jeering  tones,  be 
tween  shots,  "  Come  out  of  that  overcoat,  Johnny,"  and 
other  pleasant  salutations.  The  truth  was,  I  had  on  a 
splendid  new  overcoat,  one  of  the  fruits  of  the  green 
back  raid  and  their  remarks  about  it  made  me  feel 
sick.  I  verily  believe  it  was  my  salvation  at  that  mo 
ment,  though.  The  heartless  fellows  were  close 
enough  to  see  that  it  was  an  unusually  fine  one,  glisten 
ing  with  brass  buttons  and  some  other  garish  trim- 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES     135 

ming,  and  they  evidently  took  me  for  an  officer.  Now, 
do  not  lose  sight  of  that,  for  I  think  it  was  the  key  to 
what  followed. 

As  my  companions  were  riding  away  over  the  hill, 
in  the  woods,  and  I  realized  that  my  horse  had 
flunked  on  me,  in  my  desperation  I  involuntarily  called 
out  to  them  to  stop  and  take  me  up.  They  wheeled 
and  commenced  firing. 

The  enemy  doubtless  heard  me  call  to  them  to  stop, 
without  distinguishing  what  I  said  about  taking  me 
up.  They  saw  my  horse  drop  into  a  quiet,  dignified 
pace,  and  did  not  understand  that  it  was  not  due  to 
my  own  management  of  him.  And,  attributing  to  the 
officer  a  most  magnificent  nerve,  they  assumed  that  I 
was  rallying  my  men  from  the  ambush  into  which  we 
had  decoyed  them.  The  manly  response  of  Lieutenant 
Beattie  and  Waters  clinched  the  matter.  And  I 
pledge  you  my  word  of  honor  that  the  whole  party 
pulled  up  within  almost  touching  distance  of  me,  and 
let  me  march  in  a  quiet  walk  over  the  hill.  I  soon 
came  up  with  my  friends  and  we  rode  away  unpur- 
sued. 

I  submitted  the  above  to  Lieutenant  Beattie  who 
fully  corroborates  it,  and  expressed  his  gratification 
that  I  wrote  it  for  you. 

Joe  Bryan,  of  Richmond,  who  belonged  to  Mont- 
joy's  company  "  D,"  joined  our  Command  about  Oc 
tober,  1864,  and  his  first  raid  was  when  we  captured 
General  Duffie  in  the  Valley.  Charley  Dear  says  when 
a  detachment  of  Company  "  D,"  which  was  sent  out  to 
participate  in  the  capture,  returned,  he  found  Joe  with 


136  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

a  lot  of  others  chafing  like  a  caged  lion.  In  a  sort  of 
desperation  he  asked  Charley  how  a  man  could  make  a 
reputation  in  Mosby's  Command,  and  Charley  was 
astonished  at  such  a  question,  for  just  at  that  time  the 
boy  was  standing  among  a  lot  of  the  best  material  in 
the  Command.  He  told  Joe,  however,  that  it  was  easy 
enough  and,  as  they  were  going  to  charge  the  Yankees 
in  a  few  minutes,  all  he  had  to  do,  when  the  charge 
was  ordered,  was  to  break  away  from  the  ranks  ahd 
ride  at  them  full  tilt.  To  Charley's  surprise  a  mo 
ment  later  he  saw  Joe  break  away  in  the  charge  and 
go  it  alone,  trying  to  lead  all  the  rest.  Harry  Hatcher 
was  standing  near  and  heard  the  conversation.  Turn 
ing  to  Puryear  he  said,  "  John,  did  you  hear  what 
Charley  Dear  told  that  boy  ?  He  must  be  trying  to  get 
him  killed  in  the  first  round,  before  the  water  gets 
hot."  The  boys  came  back  from  the  charge  for  there 
were  too  many  for  us. 

After  company  "  D  "  re-formed,  Montjoy  rode  up 
to  Charley  and  asked,  "  What  is  the  name  of  that  boy 
you  brought  up  to  company  '  D  ?  '  Charley  told  him 
he  was  Joe  Bryan,  and  Montjoy  said,  "  He'll  do!  he  is 
one  of  the  old  blue  hen's  chickens  and  he  has  won  his 
spurs  in  the  first  round.  Let  him  ride  in  the  first  set 
of  fours  between  you  and  Ned  Gibson  and  fill  out 
Louis  Adie's  place."  Adie  was  killed  in  the  Berryville 
fight  only  a  short  time  before  and  was  one  of  the  gam- 
est  and  best  boys  in  Montjoy 's  company  of  all  good 
ones. 

Joe  always  sustained  his  reputation.  A  youngster 
who  could  keep  up  his  end  with  Charley  Dear  and 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES     137 

Ned  Gibson,  and  stay  up  at  the  front,  had  to  be  made 
of  the  right  stuff,  and  Joe  had  proven  what  sort  of 
stuff  it  was,  for  his  career  since  the  war  has  been  con 
stantly  upward,  until  today  he  is  perhaps  as  prominent 
as  any  man  in  Virginia. 

Frank  Angelo,  a  member  of  company  C,  was  cap 
tured  near  Milwood  in  the  Valley  late  in  November, 
1864,  by  five  men  of  the  Twenty-first  New  York.  He 
was  taken  to  headquarters  and  the  officers  had  a  lot 
of  amusement  out  of  him,  for  he  was  a  very  bright 
and  witty  fellow.  Major  Otis  and  General  Tibbits 
became  quite  interested  in  him,  and  finally  the  Major 
bet  his  General  that  Frank  would  never  be  taken  to 
Washington.  The  wager  was  a  basket  of  champagne 
and  the  General  lost.  Frank  was  taken  with  a  lot  of 
others  to  Martinsburg  and  put  in  an  old  jail.  The 
door  leading  into  an  adjoining  yard  was  fastened  by 
a  railroad  spike,  driven  into  the  floor,  and  he  managed 
to  get  hold  of  an  axe  with  which  he  loosened  the 
spike  so  the  door  would  open,  and  when  the  oppor 
tunity  offered  he  marched  out,  taking  several  other 
prisoners  with  him,  and  all  got  safely  out  of  the  town. 
While  in  prison  he  made  friends  with  a  number  of 
his  guards.  One  of  them,  finding  Frank  was  going  to 
escape,  and  wishing  to  help  one  of  his  own  friends 
who  was  confined  for  some  offense,  made  Frank  prom 
ise  to  take  the  imprisoned  Yankee  with  him,  which  he 
did,  and  got  him  safely  across  the  Potomac. 

Frank  found  that  escaping  from  jail  was  a  small 
matter  compared  with  escaping  from  the  Valley,  for 
the  whole  country  was  alive  with  camps  and  soldiers 


138  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

were  on  the  move  day  and  night  in  every  direction. 
After  almost  countless  narrow  escapes  he  reached 
Mosby's  Confederacy  at  last,  to  be  welcomed  by  the 
Colonel  who  told  him  he  would  take  him  on  his  next 
scout  and  give  him  the  best  horse  captured  as  a  reward 
for  his  troubles  and  losses.  Before  the  Colonel  could 
keep  his  promise  he  was  badly  wounded  at  Lake's 
house  on  the  2ist  of  December,  and  Chapman  let  An- 
gelo  go  home  to  Richmond  on  a  furlough. 

Frank  was  quite  a  mimic,  and  the  gift  served  him 
well  in  his  efforts  to  escape  from  the  enemy.  In  try 
ing  to  get  out  of  the  Valley  on  foot,  he  ran  unex 
pectedly  on  a  picket,  stationed  on  the  railroad  and, 
seeing  that  he  was  discovered,  he  rolled  down  the 
embankment  into  a  swamp;  as  he  waded  off  in  the 
dark  he  imitated  a  sow  and  pigs.  The  Yankee  was 
heard  to  say;  "Damn  that  hog:  if  it  was  daylight  I 
would  have  one  of  them  pigs,  sure."  His  next  obsta 
cle  was  a  wagon  camp  nearby,  which  he  found  himself 
in  before  he  realized  it.  He  unhitched  and  saddled  a 
good  mule,  and  rode  out  safely,  and  finally  landed 
his  mule  and  himself  at  home.  Angelo  is  living  in 
Washington  at  present,  and  is  a  welcome  attendant  at 
most  of  the  reunions  of  the  Command. 

John  McCue  was  one  of  our  youngsters  who  had  a 
trying  experience,  entirely  unique.  He  joined  the 
Command  the  day  before  the  Berryville  fight  and  saw 
one  of  his  college  mates,  young  Louis  Adie,  killed  in 
that  fight.  His  company  was  sent  down  with  others 
to  winter  in  Westmoreland  county  and,  late  in  March, 
1865,  he  went  across  the  Potomac  river  with  five  others 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES     139 

on  a  private  scout,  lured  by  the  prospect  of  capturing 
a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars  supposed  to  be  deposited 
in  Leonardtown,  Maryland. 

They  crossed  the  river  near  Stratford,  the  birth 
place  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee,  and  rinding  it  im 
possible  to  do  anything  at  Leonardtown  they  went 
to  Croom,  in  Prince  George  county,  where  the  party 
separated,  three  going  to  their  homes,  while  McCue 
and  two  others  concluded  to  capture  the  Post  office. 
I  suppose  "  capture  "  is  a  good,  harmless  word  to  use, 
though  the  authorities  said  the  Post  office  was  robbed. 

While  John  and  his  two  companions  were  going 
through  Uncle  Sam's  mail  the  door  was  suddenly 
opened  and  six  detectives  rushed  in  on  them,  firing 
their  pistols  at  close  range.  John  stood  his  ground 
but  his  companions  bolted  through  a  side  door  and, 
mounting  their  horses,  escaped,  finally  getting  back 
to  Virginia.  John  killed  one  of  the  men,  Detective 
Ryan,  and  wounded  another,  Jerry  Coffron.  Ryan 
had  rushed  the  boy  and  was  shot  in  the  bowels  by  him, 
but  the  shot  did  not  kill  him  and  he  grabbed  John 
around  the  arms  and  while  holding  him  received  two 
more  shots.  The  captors  tied  the  boy  and  threatened 
to  lynch  him,  but  an  officer  coming  up  prevented  it. 
They  took  him  to  Annapolis  and  from  there  to  Balti 
more,  where  he  was  tried  by  military  Commission,  and 
found  guilty  of  murder,  assault  with  intent  to  kill  and 
violation  of  the  laws  of  war.  He  was  sentenced  to 
the  penitentiary  for  life,  sent  to  the  prison  at  Clinton, 
N.  Y.  and  put  at  hard  labor.  In  the  following  No 
vember  a  petition,  signed  by  thousands  of  influential 


140  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Virginians,  was  presented  to  President  Andrew  John 
son  asking  for  his  pardon  but  not  until  General  Grant 
had  personally  asked  the  President  to  release  the  boy 
was  the  pardon  signed. 

Raiding  and  scouting  parties  going  into  Maryland 
frequently  had  exciting  experiences  before  they  came 
back  across  the  Potomac.  This  historic  stream  proved 
a  dead-line  very  often,  which  it  was  dangerous  to 
cross.  John  McCue  undertook  his  scouting  expedition 
as  a  sort  of  an  outlet  for  his  enthusiasm,  which  had 
been  pent  up  all  the  winter. 

Colonel  Chapman  took  part  of  the  Command  down 
to  the  Peninsula  to  winter  and  save  the  limited  supply 
of  forage  in  Loudoun  and  Fauquier  counties  for  that 
part  of  the  Command  which  remained  there  under 
Colonel  Mosby.  While  Colonel  Mosby  found  plenty 
of  work  to  do  all  winter,  Chapman  and  his  men  were 
idle  nearly  all  the  time  they  were  there.  Boys  like 
McCue  fretted  and  chafed  in  their  enforced  idleness, 
and  finally  the  six  I  have  spoken  of  started  out  to 
accomplish  something,  with  the  result  that  five  of 
them  did  nothing,  and  McCue  did  more  than  he  ex 
pected.  The  boy  only  thought  he  got  what  was  com 
ing  to  him  until  they  clipped  his  hair  short,  put  him 
in  chains  and  dressed  him  in  stripes.  "  Capturing  "  a 
Post  office  is  sometimes  a  serious  affair. 

Captain  Montjoy  was  a  Mississippian,  and  Mosby 
made  him  Captain  for  gallantry  —  but  he  created  all 
the  Officers  for  the  same  reason,  for  that  matter. 
Montjoy,  however,  was  conspiciously  gallant:  a  sort 
of  meteor  that  we  could  all  see  as  he  moved  across 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES     141 

the  horizon  of  war.  He  was  a  very  handsome  young 
man  with  black  eyes  and  hair,  and  his  manners  were 
very  fascinating  and  attractive  to  both  men  and 
women.  In  addition,  he  was  fastidious  in  his  dress 
and  in  his  general  equipment.  I  never  saw  him  awry 
in  any  particular.  He  was  one  of  our  dandies  and 
we  were  proud  of  him.  He  rode  the  finest  horses  that 
money  could  buy,  and  his  accoutrements  would  have 
suited  a  General.  Somehow  or  other,  when  Company 
"  D  "  was  organized,  it  seemed  to  contain  nothing 
but  dandies.  Possibly  the  boys  composing  it  took  the 
example  from  Mont  joy;  but  at  any  rate  they  were,  so 
far  as  dress  and  equipment  and  general  appearance 
went,  the  flower  of  the  battalion;  and,  in  order  to 
sustain  their  prestige  among  their  comrades,  they  be 
came  known  to  us  all,  and  deservedly  so,  as  game  fight 
ers.  Nearly  every  Marylander  in  our  Command  was 
in  Company  "  D  "  and  everyone  of  them  was  a  fire 
eater.  Montjoy  was  as  proud  of  his  company  of 
fighting  dandies  as  the  Colonel  was  of  his  entire  Com 
mand  of  fighting  Guerrillas. 

The  manner  in  which  Montjoy  met  his  death  —  a 
most  serious  loss  to  the  Partisan  Rangers  —  is  worth 
recording.  It  occurred  on  the  27th  of  November, 
1864.  He  was  commanding  his  Company,  on  a  raid 
into  Loudoun  county,  where  he  was  trying  to  round 
up  a  company  of  local  Yankees  known  as  the  Lou 
doun  Rangers.  On  the  morning  they  came  together 
Montjoy  killed,  wounded  and  captured  about  twenty- 
five  of  them,  including  among  the  latter  two  Lieuten 
ants  in  command  of  their  two  squads.  He  scattered 


142  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

them  like  chaff  before  the  wind  and  they  flew  for  their 
lives  in  every  direction.  Mont  joy  picked  out  one  of 
them  to  follow,  and  was  close  on  his  heels  when  the 
man  threw  his  six-shooter  over  his  shoulder,  pointed 
it  backwards  without  aim  and  pulled  the  trigger.  The 
bullet  went  straight  into  Montjoy's  head.  Every  man 
of  his  company  who  witnessed  the  tragedy  reined  in 
his  horse  involuntarily  and  groaned.  We  never  filled 
Montjoy's  place.  We  never  tried  to.  There  was  only 
one  Captain  Mont  joy. 

A  few  days  later  Colonel  Mosby  issued  the  follow 
ing  notice: 

Partisan  Rangers: 

The  Lieutenant-Colonel  Commanding  announces  to 
the  battalion,  with  emotions  of  deep  sorrow,  the 
death  of  Captain  R.  P.  Montjoy,  who  fell  in  action 
near  Leesburg  on  the  twenty-seventh  ultimo,  a  costly 
sacrifice  to  victory.  He  died  too  early  for  liberty  and 
his  country's  cause,  but  not  too  early  for  his  own  fame. 
To  his  Comrades  in  arms  he  has  bequeathed  an  im 
mortal  example  of  daring  and  valor,  and  to  his  coun 
try  a  name  that  will  brighten  the  pages  of  her  history. 

JOHN  S.  MOSBY, 
Lieutenant-Colonel,  Commanding. 

One  of  the  men  killed  in  the  Blazer  fight  was  Ed 
ward  Bredell  of  St.  Louis.  He  had  been  an  officer 
in  the  regular  army  before  he  came  to  us,  and  his  par 
ents  were  very  wealthy.  Moreover,  he  was  an  only 
child.  On  the  day  of  the  fight  the  boys  laid  him  to 
rest  where  he  fell,  but  afterwards  we  brought  his  body 
over  to  our  side  of  the  mountain  and  buried  it  near 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PERSONALITIES.    143 

Oak  Hill,  the  former  home  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall. 
Before  the  war  ended  young  Bredell's  father  came 
down  to  Virginia  and  took  his  dead  son's  body  home. 
When  he  reached  St.  Louis,  owing  to  the  bitter  feeling 
there  towards  the  Southerners,  he  was  informed  that 
the  body  could  not  be  buried  in  any  of  the  cemeteries. 
He  thereupon  had  a  grave  dug  in  his  own  handsome 
grounds,  and  his  son's  body  found  its  final  rest  in  the 
shadow  of  his  old  home. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  or  rather  two  years  after, 
I  went  to  St.  Louis  to  live,  taking  with  me  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  the  father  of  Edward  Bredell,  whom 
I  found  to  be  an  old  Eastern  shoreman  of  Maryland, 
and  distantly  related  to  family  connections  of  mine. 
Upon  my  first  visit  to  the  old  gentleman  he  took  my 
hand  and  escorted  me  to  the  beautiful  grounds  in  the 
rear  of  his  house,  where  we  two  sat  by  the  grave  of  the 
Partisan  Ranger  and  talked  of  him  as  we  had  known 
him  in  the  flesh.  I  called  frequently  at  the  Bredell 
home  and  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  it  gave  the 
old  man  no  little  pleasure  to  hear  me  recount  the  ex 
ploits  of  his  brave  son,  and  to  repeat,  time  and  time 
again,  the  story  of  the  fight  in  which  the  boy  fell  and 
died.  Many  a  time  I  have  sat  near  him  in  the  shade 
of  the  trees  that  spread  their  limbs  over  the  simple 
grave,  and  caught  him  gazing  wistfully  at  the  green 
mound  that  covered  his  son's  body.  He  tried  to  take 
his  sorrows  philosophically,  but  I  cannot  forget  his 
first  remark  as  we  stood  together: 

"  Maybe  it  is  all  right  to  give  your  only  boy  to 
your  country,  but  I  wish  I  had  mine  back  again." 


CHAPTER  XII 

AN  UNPLEASANT  EPISODE 

AS  I  have  written  before,  the  month  of  August, 
1864,  was  one  of  the  busiest  in  the  history  of 
our  Command.  Hardly  a  day  passed  without 
bloodshed.  The  Northern  feeling  against  Mosby's 
men  was  intense  and  the  opportunities  to  crush  our 
Command  were  thrown  away  because  of  the  enemy's 
anxiety  to  bring  about  instant  annihilation.  When 
concerted  attacks  were  arranged,  some  hot-headed  one, 
guilty  only  in  judgment,  would  blaze  away  at  us  from 
ambush  and  sound  the  signal  that  enabled  us  to  slip 
away  in  time.  Mosby's  men,  it  must  be  remembered, 
knew  more  about  the  country  than  did  any  of  the 
visitors  from  the  North,  and  we  knew  the  game  of 
guerrilla  warfare  thoroughly. 

One  afternoon  in  that  busy  month  of  August  Colonel 
Mosby  with  about  thirty  or  forty  men  of  his  Com 
mand,  was  riding  through  the  woods  in  Fairfax 
county.  He  was  not  expecting  immediate  trouble. 
Suddenly  bullets  came  singing  through  the  trees  from 
a  party  of  Thirteenth  New  Yorkers  who  retreated  in 
a  gallop  towards  Fairfax  station  as  soon  as  they  had 
fired  their  volley.  One  of  our  men,  George  Slater, 
was  wounded. 

At  the  station  the  enemy  was  joined  by  some  of  the 

144 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EPISODE  145 

Sixteenth  New  York,  about  one  hundred  men  in  all 
They  came  swinging  back  through  the  woods  and  pre 
pared  to  attack  us.  Our  scouts,  scattered  through  the 
underbrush,  heard  their  commander  tell  them  to  use 
their  carbines  in  the  preliminary  rush  and  then  charge 
with  their  sabres.  Mosby  heard  the  order  and,  realiz 
ing  that  sabres  were  utterly  worthless  against  our  six- 
shooters,  smiled  when  he  told  us  simply  to  "  Go 
through  'em."  There  was  no  excitement,  no  alarm  at 
their  greater  number,  three  or  four  to  our  one,  no 
surprise  at  the  Colonel's  quiet  order;  everything 
seemed  to  be  moving  along  in  its  usual  way.  The  or 
der  was  a  common  one  to  us.  "  There  are  the  Yan 
kees!  Go  through  'em." 

What  is  there  to  write  about?  It  was  all  over  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  it  was  the  same  old  monotonous 
story.  We  killed  the  commanding  officer,  Captain  J. 
H.  Fleming,  of  the  Sixteenth  New  York  and  six  of 
his  men;  we  wounded  Captain  McMenamin,  of  the 
Thirteenth  New  York,  a  lieutenant  and  eight  men,  and 
we  captured  thirty  prisoners  and  forty  horses. 

Why  the  Federal  troopers  so  often  went  into  battle 
with  those  clumsy,  antiquated  sabres  was  a  mystery 
that  none  of  Mosby's  men  ever  found  out.  They 
might  just  as  well  have  walked  up  to  a  battery  of 
howitzers  with  billiard  cues.  A  good  healthy  Irish 
man  with  his  shillelah  would  make  any  cavalryman 
with  his  sabre  ashamed  of  himself.  In  his  report  of 
this  affair  Colonel  Lazelle  said  that  "  A  board  of  in 
vestigation  had  been  called  to  ascertain  who  was  re 
sponsible."  The  one  man  who  could  have  best  en- 


146  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

lightened  the  Board  was  dead,  but  it  would  not  have 
been  a  bad  idea  to  court-martial  the  officer  who  ordered 
the  men  to  wear  sabres. 

There  are  some  things  in  the  lives  of  all  of  us  that 
we  can't  refer  to  with  pleasure,  and  the  hanging  and 
shooting  of  some  of  our  men,  by  order  of  General 
Custer,  and  in  his  presence,  is  one  of  those  which 
Mosby's  men  rarely  refer  to.  Neither  it,  nor  what 
followed  as  a  result  of  it,  are  happy  memories  to  any 
of  us.  We  want  to  remember  General  Custer,  and  I 
believe  we  all  do  remember  him,  as  the  gallant  martyr 
who  went  down  at  Little  Big  Horn,  surrounded,  al 
most  covered  up,  with  the  dead  bodies  of  his  foes;  his 
pistols  smoking  hot;  his  blue  eyes  flashing  defiance; 
his  voice  ringing  out  in  command  of  his  brave  com 
panions.  This  was  the  real  hero,  the  real  Custer. 

The  Custer  episode  is  part  of  our  history,  how 
ever,  and  its  recital  reflects  nothing  but  credit  on 
our  Command.  It  was  one  of  the  important  events 
of  our  career.  Its  effect  was  far  reaching  on  both 
sides  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  was  never  generally 
approved  throughout  the  North.  The  official  records 
of  the  war  will  bear  out  my  story  of  it. 

At  that  time,  August,  1864,  Alger  was  operating  in 
the  lower  Valley  of  Virginia,  and  we  frequently  ex 
changed  shots  with  his  men,  picked  off  their  sentries, 
chased  them  and  were  chased  by  them.  One  after 
noon  Lieutenant-Colonel  Chapman  of  our  Command, 
with  a  detachment  of  raiders,  came  upon  some  burning 
dwellings  in  the  neighborhood  of  Charlestown,  in  Jef 
ferson  county.  We  learned  from  the  recent  residents, 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EPISODE          147 

huddled  about  their  ruins,  that  General  Alger's  men 
had  applied  the  torch.  The  entreaties  of  the  women 
and  children  had  been  of  no  avail.  The  order  had 
been  given  and  the  order  was  obeyed.  The  sight  of 
those  helpless  non-combatants  crouching  in  the  rain, 
weeping  over  their  burning  homes,  wrought  up  the 
resentment  of  the  men  and  we  started  out  to  even 
things  up  in  real  guerrilla  fashion.  We  passed  the 
ruined  and  deserted  homes  of  Mr.  McCormick  and 
Mr.  Sowers  and,  learning  that  the  burners  were  just 
ahead  of  us,  went  after  them  on  a  run,  overtaking 
them  at  the  residence  of  Colonel  Morgan,  to  which 
they  had  just  set  fire.  Our  men  were  demons  that 
day.  Thirty  of  the  burners  were  killed  and  wounded, 
mostly  killed.  We  took  no  prisoners  and  gave  no 
quarter.  Forty  horses  fell  into  our  hands  and  we 
retired  without  further  concern.  No  more  buildings 
were  burned  by  the  Federals  in  that  valley. 

In  order  to  contrast  this  house  burning  with  Mosby's 
idea  and  understanding  of  ethics  I  have  only  to  recall 
the  case  of  one  of  our  men,  recently  recruited,  who 
went  down  with  us  into  Loudoun  county,  among  the 
Quakers.  He  overturned  an  old  Quaker's  milk  can. 
The  fellow  knew  that  all  the  Quakers  were  sympathiz 
ers  with  the  North,  at  least  not  with  us.  Colonel 
Mosby  had  him  arrested  when  he  heard  of  it,  and  I 
was  sent  back  with  him  to  the  regular  army  and  in 
structed  to  turn  him  over  to  General  Early,  with  the 
information  that  he  was  not  sufficient  of  a  gentleman 
to  travel  with  Mosby's  men  and  that  he  had  a  mistaken 
idea  of  the  mission  of  the  Guerrillas.  I  had  other 


148  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

prisoners  to  take  on  the  same  trip  and,  as  I  was  start 
ing,  Colonel  Mosby  took  me  aside  and  told  me  to  take 
the  milk  spiller  along  with  me  to  help  me  guard  the 
captured  men  and,  when  I  got  him  to  General  Early's, 
to  turn  him  over  also. 

When  I  reached  the  army  and  had  unloaded  my 
charges  I  reported  to  General  Early's  tent.  The  Gen 
eral  and  my  father  were  great  friends  and  he  welcomed 
me.  I  told  him  all  about  the  doings  of  Alger's  men, 
how  we  met  them  at  Colonel  Morgan's  and  what  we 
did  to  them,  of  course  coloring  the  picture  somewhat, 
as  was  my  duty.  He  was  so  well  pleased  and  so 
greatly  interested  in  my  recital  and  the  result,  that  I. 
did  not  attempt  to  restrain  my  talents,  but  added  that 
we  had  killed  every  man  that  we  could  get  at,  and 
threw  them  all  in  the  fire. 

"  I  wish  to  heaven,"  he  replied,  "  that  you  had 
thrown  all  of  Sheridan's  men  in  after  them." 

General  Phil  was  worrying  the  old  man  greatly 
at  the  time,  and  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that 
General  Early  meant  just  what  he  said. 

The  fight,  or  rather  the  onslaught,  at  Colonel  Mor 
gan's  house,  was  not  to  be  forgotten,  however,  for  on 
the  23d  of  September,  General  Custer,  still  breathing 
fire  and  vengeance,  captured  some  of  Mosby's  men 
and  had  some  of  them  hanged  and  others  shot  with 
their  hands  tied  behind  their  backs.  This  was  in 
Front  Royal,  Va.  Mosby's  men  have  erected  a  hand 
some  monument  to  them  in  that  pretty  little  town,  and 
the  ladies  look  after  it  for  the  Command.  These  seven 
men  had  been  taken  prisoners  in  a  fair  fight  and  by 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EPISODE          149 

overwhelming  numbers.  They  were  captured  doing 
the  best  they  could  and  should  have  been  sent  to  some 
northern  prison  like  other  prisoners  of  war.  The  men 
who  did  the  work  were,  some  of  them,  Alger's.  I  re 
ceived  only  a  short  while  ago  a  letter  from  a  prominent 
business  man  living  in  the  West  who  was  a  member 
of  the  Fifth  Michigan.  He  said  that  affair  was  a  dis 
grace  to  the  army. 

Reports  of  the  unfortunate  affair  came  very 
promptly  to  Colonel  Mosby  from  many  sources.  One 
of  our  men,  Frank  Angelo,  had  cut  down  and  removed 
the  bodies  of  some  of  our  boys  who  were  hanged,  and 
he  gave  all  the  particulars  of  it  to  us.  There  was  at 
once  a  rumor  set  afloat  that  we  were  to  fight  thereafter 
under  the  black  flag,  and  as  a  proof  of  it  Ouster's  act 
was  pointed  to.  Men  examined  their  pistols  more 
carefully.  The  price  of  good  runners  went  up  rapidly 
and,  as  the  greenback  raid  followed  the  next  month, 
and  the  men  had  money  to  burn,  there  were  a  number 
of  fine  horses  bought.  Where  formerly  the  boys  had 
slept  with  one  eye  open  they  now  slept  with  both  open, 
as  it  were.  Mosby  waited  his  time. 

On  the  6th  of  November  following  we  got  twenty- 
seven  of  these  Michigan  fellows  in  a  raid.  Mosby  had 
them  draw  lots  to  determine  which  seven  of  them 
should  be  killed  in  retaliation  for  our  men  killed  at 
Front  Royal.  It  was  an  awful  shock  to  the  unlucky 
ones  and  a  fearful  suspense  to  all.  Lieutenant  Ed. 
Thomson  was  instructed  to  take  the  condemned  men  to 
a  point  across  the  Shenandoah  river  in  the  Valley  and 
have  them  hanged  or  shot.  It  is  safe  to  say  he  never 


A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA; 

had  a  more  disagreeable  duty  to  perform  in  all  his 
life. 

On  the  march  one  of  his  prisoners  escaped  in  the 
darkness.  A  little  farther  on,  while  crossing  the 
mountain  at  Ashby's  gap,  Thomson  met  Captain  Mont- 
joy  returning  from  a  raid  in  the  Valley  with  some 
prisoners.  Montjoy  had  recently  become  a  Mason, 
and  was  a  very  enthusiastic  craftsman.  He  ascer 
tained  in  the  usual  way  that  two  of  the  condemned' 
men  were  brother  Masons,  and  that  they  would  be 
glad  to  enjoy  any  fraternal  assistance  that  might  be 
available  at  the  moment;  so  Montjoy  took  them  from 
Thomson  in  exchange  for  two  of  his  own  prisoners, 
and  passed  on. 

When  Mosby  heard  of  this  transfer  he  called  Mont 
joy  to  him  and  said,  after  delivering  a  lecture  on  dis 
cipline,  "  I  want  you  to  understand  that  my  Command 
is  not  a  Masonic  lodge." 

Of  the  seven  men  to  be  killed  only  three  were 
hanged.  Two  of  them  were  shot,  but  not  killed,  and 
recovered  later;  two  got  away.  One  of  these  latter, 
when  the  spot  for  the  execution  was  reached,  asked 
Thomson  for  time  to  pray,  which  was  readily  ac 
corded;  the  lieutenant  joining  silently  in  the  petition 
of  the  condemned.  The  whole  job  was  illsuited  to 
Thomson's  inclination,  but  he  was  too  good  a  soldier 
to  disobey  orders. 

While  the  Michigan  man  was  making  his  peace  with 
his  Creator  he  was  incidentally  "  sawing  wood  "  vig 
orously.  With  his  hands  clasped  apparently  in  prayer, 
he  slowly  worked  away  at  the  cords  that  bound  his 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EPISODE          151 

wrists,  until  they  were  free.  His  appeal  to  the  Al 
mighty  was  fervent  in  the  extreme,  and  at  the  Amen 
which  was  uttered  in  a  voice  heavy  with  penitence,  he 
turned  to  Thomson  as  if  he  were  ready  to  have  his 
head  shot  off.  Instead,  however,  he  planted  a  terrific 
blow  with  his  right  hand  on  Thomson's  nose,  knocked 
him  flat  on  his  back,  jumped  over  his  prostrate  form 
and,  without  waiting  to  thank  our  men  or  tell  them 
good-bye,  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  I  take  off  my 
hat  to  men  who  can  do  things  like  that. 

Thomson,  rather  pleased  at  the  celerity  with  which 
the  Michigan  man's  appeal  to  heaven  had  been  an 
swered,  picked  himself  up  and  finished  his  work. 

To  the  clothing  of  one  of  the  men  he  pinned  the 
following  note: 

"  These  men  have  been  hanged  in  retaliation  for  an 
equal  number  of  Colonel  Mosby's  men  hanged  by  or 
der  of  General  Custer  at  Front  Royal.  Measure  for 
measure." 

On  November  n  Colonel  Mosby  wrote  a  letter  to 
General  Sheridan  and  sent  it  by  John  Russell.  It  read 
as  follows: 

Major-General  P.  H.  Sheridan, 

Commanding  U.  S.  Forces  in  the  Valley. 
GENERAL:  Some  time  in  the  month  of  September, 
during  my  absence  from  my  Command,  six  of  my 
men,  who  had  been  captured  by  your  forces,  were 
hung  and  shot  in  the  streets  of  Front  Royal,  by  the 
order  and  in  the  presence  of  Brigadier-General  Custer. 
Since  then  another  (captured  by  a  Colonel  Powell  on 
a  plundering  expedition  into  Rappahannock)  shared 


152  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

a  similar  fate.  A  label  affixed  to  the  coat  of  one  of 
the  murdered  men  declared  that,  "  This  will  be  the  fate 
of  Mosby  and  all  his  men." 

Since  the  murder  of  my  men,  not  less  than  seven 
hundred  prisoners,  including  many  officers  of  high 
rank,  captured  from  your  army  by  this  Command, 
have  been  forwarded  to  Richmond,  but  the  execution 
of  my  purpose  of  retaliation  was  deferred  in  order, 
as  far  as  possible,  to  confine  its  operation  to  the  men 
of  Custer  and  Powell. 

Accordingly,  on  the  6th  instant,  seven  of  your  men 
were,  by  my  order,  executed  on  the  Valley  pike,  your 
highway  of  travel. 

Hereafter  any  prisoners  falling  into  my  hands  will 
be  treated  with  the  kindness  due  to  their  condition, 
unless  some  new  act  of  barbarity  shall  compel  me,  re 
luctantly,  to  adopt  a  line  of  policy  repugnant  to  hu 
manity.  Very  respectfully, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
JOHN  S.  MOSBY,  LieuL-ColoneL 

On  tEe  29th  of  October,  Colonel  Mosby  had  written 
a  letter  to  General  Lee,  telling  him  of  the  practice  of 
compelling  helpless  old  men  to  ride  exposed  on  the 
trains  running  over  the  railroads  from  Alexandria  into 
Fauquier  County,  and  of  his  intention  to  continue  at 
tacking  such  trains.  He  also  told  him  of  the  murder 
of  our  men  by  Custer  and  Powell,  and  his  intention  to 
retaliate. 

The  first  endorsement  of  Mosby's  letter  was  as  fol 
lows: 


"  Respectfully  referred  to  the  Honorable  Secretary 
of  War  for  his  information.     I  do  not  know  how  we 


gl 

II 


31 

J    O 
O    = 

CJ  r-i 


AN  UNPLEASANT  EPISODE          153 

can  prevent  the  cruel  conduct  of  the  enemy  toward 
our  citizens.  I  have  directed  Colonel  Mosby,  through 
his  Adjutant,  to  hang  an  equal  number  of  Custer's 
men  in  retaliation  for  those  executed  by  him. 

"  R.  E.  LEE,  General. 

The  third  endorsement  was: 

"  General  Lee's  instructions  are  cordially  approved. 
In  addition,  if  our  citizens  are  found  exposed  on  any 
captured  train,  signal  vengeance  should  be  taken  on 
all  conductors  and  officers  found  on  it,  and  every  male 
passenger  of  the  enemy's  country  should  be  treated 
as  a  prisoner.  So  instruct. 

J.  A.  SEDDON,  Secretary." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

INCIDENTS 

IN  a  raid  we  once  made  at  midnight  into  the  very 
heart   of  a   cavalry   camp   near   Fairfax   Court 
House,  where  we  were  entirely  surrounded  by 
thousands  of  the  enemy,  it  was  necessary  to  go  inside 
the  stables  to  unfasten  the  horses.     It  was  also  neces 
sary  to  keep  absolutely  quiet,   for  we  were  outnum 
bered  a  hundred  to  one.     The  pickets  had  been  cap 
tured  and  ordered  in  whispers  to  follow  us,  and  we 
made  them  unhitch  the  horses  and  help  us  to  get  them 
out. 

Captain  Wm.  Chapman  had  by  his  side  Baron  Von 
Massow,  of  whom  I  have  spoken  previously.  In  whis 
pers  he  explained  to  the  Baron  what  we  were  doing, 
and  how  to  do  it  artistically;  incidentally,  he  told  the 
Baron  of  the  boldness  and  the  danger  of  it.  The 
Baron  proved  a  very  apt  scholar  but  after  awhile  he 
whispered  to  Captain  Chapman  very  quietly :  "  This  is 
not  fighting;  this  is  horse-stealing."  And  who  shall 
say  he  was  wrong?  But,  before  that  job  of  horse- 
stealing  was  finished,  and  when  each  man  had  from 
one  to  five,  or  even  more,  haltered  or  bridled  horses, 
and  was  starting  to  lead  them  out  to  safety,  the  alarm 
was  given,  the  troops  were  aroused,  firing  and  yelling 
began,  and  the  wounded  were  groaning  and  dying. 
In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  the  Guerrillas  mounted 

154 


INCIDENTS  155 

the  captured  horses  and,  leading  others,  dashed  away 
to  where  their  own  horses  were  waiting,  without  the 
loss  of  a  man. 

This  was  one  of  the  many  affairs  that  read  like  ro 
mance  when  told  in  the  newspapers.  People  asked 
how  on  earth  Mosby  could  get  his  raiding  party  inside 
of  a  big  cavalry  camp  and,  once  the  camp  aroused,  how 
on  earth  he  could  get  it  out. 

I  do  not  know  just  how  to  explain  it  or  to  tell  how 
easy  it  all  appeared  when  it  was  over.  But  if  you 
will  bear  in  mind  that  everybody  in  the  camp  was  fast 
asleep  except  the  pickets ;  that  we  either  crept  stealthily 
upon  these  pickets,  one  by  one,  put  pistols  to  their 
faces  and  told  them  to  keep  quiet,  or  that  we  rode  up 
to  them  boldly  and  gobbled  them  up  before  they  real 
ized  that  we  were  not  their  own  relief  guard;  and 
that,  once  inside,  it  was  no  more  dangerous  to  move 
around  quietly  among  five  thousand  sleeping  men  than 
among  five;  and  that,  when  sleeping  men  awake  sud 
denly,  they  never  are  instantly  ready  to  fight;  and 
that,  when  we  began  yelling  and  firing  into  them,  they 
never  knew  whether  we  were  five  thousand  or  five ;  and 
that,  by  the  time  they  were  sufficiently  aroused  to 
fight  intelligently,  we  had  dashed  out  of  the  camp  and 
disappeared  in  the  darkness,  it  will  not  seem  so  strange. 

It  fell  to  my  lot  one  dark  night  in  winter  to  capture 
an  infantry  picket  before  our  men  could  get  into  the 
camp,  where  AVC  knew  there  were  a  lot  of  fine  horses 
and  mules.  Not  knowing  how  many  pickets  we  might 
have  to  take  the  Colonel  had  ordered  another  man  to 
go  with  me.  His  orders  were  merely  to  "  take  the 


156  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

pickets."  We  left  our  horses  and  started  towards  the 
camp  on  foot.  Within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  where 
our  men  were  waiting  for  us  I  could  see  a  figure  mov 
ing  along  in  the  darkness,  and  we  both  dropped  to  the 
ground.  I  saw  him  march  to  the  right  and  we  crawled 
up  a  little  and  stopped.  He  turned  and  marched  back, 
and  as  he  passed  us  we  crawled  a  little  nearer.  When 
he  had  gone  up  and  down  a  few  more  times  we  were 
in  his  path,  and  just  as  he  came  up  to  me  I  jumped  up 
and  thrust  my  pistol  in  his  face.  I  do  not  recall  that 
he  said  that  he  was  pleased  to  make  my  acquaintance, 
but  I  do  remember  that,  before  we  got  him  back  to  our 
base,  he  was  taken  suddenly  sick.  It  was  a  simple 
case  of  extreme  fright.  He  needed  a  good  stiff  drink. 
I  captured  a  Yankee  soldier  on  the  2ist  of  Novem 
ber,  1863,  who  never  ceased  to  be  grateful  to  me  for 
doing  it.  Mosby  had  about  seventy-five  men  on  a 
raid  below  Warrenton  while  General  Gregg's  Division 
of  Federal  Cavalry  was  encamped  there.  We  had 
stopped  in  a  piece  of  pines  near  Bealton  Station  to 
watch  "  for  something  doing  "  in  our  line  of  business ; 
it  was  raining,  cold  and  disagreeable,  and  the  boys 
were  all  feeling  ugly  and  impatient.  Mosby  saw  a 
cavalryman  and  a  man  on  foot  coming  along  the  road, 
and  told  Walter  Whaley  and  me  to  bring  them  in  to 
him.  We  had  on  rubber  ponchos  which  hid  our  bodies 
entirely  and,  drawing  our  pistols  under  them,  we 
marched  up  to  the  two  men;  we  spoke  only  when  we 
were  a  step  away,  and  then  merely  said,  "  Surrender." 
The  mounted  man's  first  impulse  was  to  draw  his  pistol 
and  fight  us,  but  he  thought  better  of  it  and  gave  him- 


INCIDENTS  157 

self  up.  Whaley  disarmed  him  and  I  had  laid  violent 
hands  on  the  one  on  foot,  when  his  face  broadened  into 
a  smile. 

"  Oh,  thank  God  for  this/'  he  cried,  "  may  God  bless 
you  my  boy." 

I  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  make  of  this  demon 
stration,  for  we  were  not  accustomed  to  being  thanked 
for  gobbling  up  the  boys  of  the  other  side  but,  when 
we  went  through  the  cavalryman,  who  proved  to  be 
a  courier  bearing  important  despatches  and  papers,  we 
unraveled  the  mystery.  My  man  on  foot  was  his  pris 
oner,  and  was  being  taken  to  a  nearby  camp  to  be 
shot,  according  to  a  sentence  of  a  court-martial  held 
the  day  before. 

When  we  first  took  the  men  I  asked  the  one  on 
horseback  if  he  carried  any  papers;  he  said  he  did 
not  and,  to  prove  that  he  was  a  good  soldier  and  likely 
to  be  lying,  I  searched  him  thoroughly ;  I  did  not  come 
across  the  prize  envelope  until  I  got  inside  of  his  in 
side  shirt,  next  to  his  skin,  where  it  was  sticking  to 
him  like  a  porous  plaster. 

When  we  took  our  prisoners  to  Mosby  he  opened 
the  envelope  and  found  the  order  to  have  the  man 
shot.  We  took  him  back  with  us  to  our  part  of  the 
country,  got  him  a  suit  of  old  clothes  and,  facing  him 
Northward,  turned  him  loose.  He  started  for  his 
home  in  Pennsylvania  and  no  doubt  he  never  stopped 
until  he  got  there. 

Among  the  courier's  papers  was  an  Official  Order 
which  informed  us  that  some  wagons  would  be  along 
soon ;  in  due  time  they  arrived  and  we  captured  them. 


158  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

with  their  guard.  Mosby  said  that  it  was  clever  of  the 
enemy  to  inform  us  when  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  their 
good  things.  With  the  wagons  we  captured  fifteen 
prisoners  together  with  thirty  horses  and  mules,  and 
helped  ourselves  to  all  the  medical  supplies  we  needed 
for  our  surgeon's  use.  Their  wagons  contained  a  sup 
ply  greater  in  quantity,  perhaps,  at  that  time,  than  the 
Medical  Department  at  Richmond  could  boast.  I 
know  of  one  old  local  doctor,  to  whom  I  gave  a  few 
bottles  of  morphine  shortly  afterwards,  who  thanked 
me  actually  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  assuring  me  that  the 
stuff  was  worth  more  to  him  than  its  weight  in  gold. 

The  courier  also  carried  a  bundle  of  letters  to  be 
mailed,  and  these  we  amused  ourselves  with  while  we 
waited  for  the  wagons  to  come  along.  We  did  not 
think  it  was  wrong  to  open  other  people's  mail  in  those 
days.  Among  them  were  some  love  letters,  which  we 
sent  to  Warrenton  later,  one  of  which  created  a  mighty 
stir  and  nearly  split  a  church  in  twain.  For  there 
were  many  in  that  congregation  who  were  horrified  at 
the  discovery  that  one  of  their  number  was  correspond 
ing  with  a  "  horrid  Yankee  Officer." 

Very  few  of  the  fights  of  Mosby's  men  were  pitched 
battles.  Most  of  them  were  little  affairs  hardly  worth 
writing  about.  Yet  they  were  part  of  the  almost 
daily  experience  of  some  of  the  men.  I  recall  one  of 
them  in  which  I  took  part,  where  my  companions 
killed  four-fifths  of  the  enemy,  and  I  captured  the 
rest.  We  wiped  the  whole  crowd  out  completely. 

Colonel  Mosby  took  five  of  us  on  a  scout  into  Fair 
fax  county,  on  one  occasion,  and  about  midnight  we 


INCIDENTS  159 

got  information  from  a  man  living  on  the  roadside 
which  changed  his  plans  and  made  him  decide  to  go 
back  home  and  try  again  a  little  later.  We  learned, 
however,  that  a  picket  post  of  five  cavalrymen  were 
stationed  on  the  turnpike  a  few  hundred  yards  below 
where  we  were,  and  that  a  vedette  stood  between  them 
and  us.  Colonel  Mosby  told  us  to  go  down  and  bring 
them  in  while  he  took  a  little  nap  in  the  pines,  as  he 
did  not  think  it  at  all  necessary  to  lead  in  person 
such  a  formidable  body  as  we  were.  We  tied  our 
horses  and  started  on  foot  in  a  roundabout  way,  to  get 
between  the  picket  post  and  the  supporting  company,  a 
hundred  or  two  yards  away  and  nearer  their  army 
corps.  Captain  Mont  joy,  being  the  only  officer  in  our 
little  party  of  five,  assumed  command  without  objec 
tion  from  any  of  us  and  suggested  we  string  out,  in 
line-of-battle  style,  a  few  yards  apart,  and  stealthily 
approach  the  post,  till  we  could  jump  on  the  pickets 
and  whisper  to  them  not  to  create  unpleasantness  by 
firing  their  weapons. 

We  crept  along  noiselessly,  step  by  step,  in  the  dark, 
circling  around  the  vedette,  and  keeping  the  pickets 
in  full  view  all  the  time,  as  they  were  grouped  around 
a  little  smouldering  fire.  Each  of  us  had  his  pistol 
drawn  ready  for  an  emergency,  but  we  hardly  ex 
pected  to  use  them.  When  we  were  within  twenty 
feet  of  them  one  of  us  stepped  on  a  dry  stick  which 
broke  with  a  snapping  sound,  and  the  five  sentinels 
turning  to  us  called  out,  "  Halt,  who  goes  there  ?  " 
Mont  joy  answered,  "  Surrender." 

In  an  instant  five  carbines  were  emptied  at  us,  and 


160  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

four  of  our  pistols  rang  out,  point-blank,  at  them. 
Four  of  them  fell  dead  around  their  little  fire. 

In  our  advance  on  them  Montjoy  was  on  one  end 
of  our  little  "  line-of-battle,"  and  I  was  at  the  other, 
not  dreaming  we  should  have  to  fire  on  them,  but 
thinking  that  we  could  take  them  noiselessly.  I  did 
not  realize  what  Montjoy  said,  but  mistook  "  Surren 
der  "  for  "  Friends ;  "  and  in  my  excitement  I  did  not 
fire  my  pistol  with  the  others. 

We  rushed  on  them  immediately,  and  it  fell  to  my  lot 
to  reach  the  only  live  one  first.  He  understood  the  sit 
uation  only  too  well,  and  in  his  anxiety  to  surrender 
to  me  and  save  his  life,  he  pushed  the  muzzle  of  his 
carbine  up  against  my  stomach  but,  not  knowing  how- 
to  speak  English  he  did  not  speak  a  word  of  anything. 
I  mistook  his  action  just  as  I  had  mistaken  Montjoy's 
call  and,  as  the  carbine  was  pressed  against  me,  I 
imagined  I  could  feel  my  heart,  liver,  lungs  and  vermi 
form  appendix  flying  through  space  out  of  the  stove 
pipe  hole  in  my  back.  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  suffered 
such  suspense  for  about  a  half  minute  in  all  my  life 
but,  as  the  carbine  failed  to  do  its  expected  deadly 
work  of  exploration,  I  took  the  fellow  a  prisoner  and 
threw  the  gun  away. 

We  pulled  the  four  dead  bodies  out  of  the  fire,  took 
their  pistols  and  belts,  mounted  the  five  horses,  put 
the  captured  German  up  behind  me,  and  galloped  back 
to  where  the  Colonel  was  peacefully  sleeping  in  the 
pines. 

As  we  rode  away  from  our  ghastly  work  we  could 
hear  the  lone  vedette  crashing  through  the  woods  on 


INCIDENTS  161 

his  way  around  us,  back  to  his  company,  but  we  did 
not  try  to  head  him  off  and,  when  daylight  dawned 
we  were  twenty  or  thirty  miles  away,  headed  for  the 
mountains,  with  five  horses  and  no  German.  In  the 
darkness  he  had  slipped  off  the  horse  he  was  riding, 
and  the  man  who  was  supposed  to  be  guarding  him 
did  not  seem  to  be  very  sorry  to  lose  him.  As  we  rode 
along  through  the  darkness  we  each  decided  to  keep 
the  horse  he  was  leading,  instead  of  drawing  lots  for 
them  and,  as  my  captured  animal  was  the  friskiest  of 
the  lot,  I  believed  I  had  the  best.  But  oh !  what  a  dif 
ference  in  the  morning !  I  had  a  regular  old  plug. 

One  morning  in  the  late  summer,  previous  to  my 
capture,  I  had  been  scouting  with  Colonel  Mosby  in  the 
Valley,  and  a  few  of  us  were  resting  on  the  roadside, 
hidden  under  the  trees  from  the  view  of  any  of  the 
enemy  who  might  be  passing  along  the  pike.  While 
Sheridan  was  in  the  Valley  all  the  roads  in  the  vicinity 
of  his  army  were  pretty  well  covered  by  his  cavalry 
in  motion.  Looking  out  under  the  trees  from  our 
hiding  place  the  Colonel  saw  the  four  legs  of  a  gray 
horse  coming  toward  us,  and  assumed  that  a  horse's 
body  and  a  man,  mounted  on  it,  accompanied  the  legs ; 
so  he  told  me  to  go  out  and  bring  the  man  in  to  him. 
i  mounted  my  horse  and  rode  out  to  see  who  the  new 
comer  was  and,  as  he  was  not  looking  for  anybody 
from  Mosby's  Confederacy,  I  had  no  trouble  in  poking 
my  pistol  under  his  nose  before  he  could  draw  his  own 
from  the  holster.  He  surrendered  very  quietly  and 
I  took  him  back  to  the  Colonel,  in  the  meantime  search 
ing  him  carefully  to  be  sure  that  he  had  no  dynamite 


162  A  MOSEBY  GUERILLA 

about  his  person.  I  was  much  relieved  to  find  that  he 
only  had  a  harmless  pocket-book  and  a  pretty  good 
watch  which,  in  all  kindness,  I  offered  to  keep  for  him 
and  which,  in  equal  kindness,  he  permitted  me  to  do. 
He  proved  to  be  Lieutenant  Wright,  Provost-Martial 
for  General  Merritt.  During  the  morning  we  cap 
tured  some  other  prisoners  and,  inasmuch  as  I  had 
profited  more  than  the  other  boys  by  the  horse  and 
the  personal  effects  of  the  Lieutenant,  as  well  as  some 
other  trinkets  obtained  casually  from  other  prisoners, 
the  Colonel  made  me  take  all  the  prisoners  out.  I 
had  to  get  them  from  the  rear  of  Sheridan's  troops, 
and  along  the  western  base  of  the  mountain  till  I 
came  within  the  lines  of  our  own  army,  which  was 
facing  Sheridan.  In  other  words  I  had  to  describe 
a  circle  of  about  twenty  miles  to  go  what  would  have 
been  only  about  five  in  a  straight  line.  When  I  got 
to  General  Early's  headquarters  I  tried  to  have  Lieu 
tenant  Wright  exchanged  for  one  of  our  own  Lieu 
tenants,  Frank  Fox,  who  had  been  wounded  and  cap 
tured  only  a  few  days  before,  but  my  good  intentions 
were  frustrated  by  the  death  of  Frank  Fox,  and  my 
captured  Provost-Martial  was  sent  to  Richmond.  The 
Colonel  enjoyed  my  ownership  of  the  captured  watch 
very  much,  and  after  that  day  he  would  frequently  say, 
"What  time  is  it,  Munson,  by  Lieutenant  Wright?" 
Years  and  years  afterwards,  in  fact  when  he  had  re 
turned  from  his  long  residence  in  Hong  Kong,  where 
he  had  represented  the  United  States  Consul,  he  was 
walking  with  me  one  day  in  St.  Louis,  and  turning 
to  me  with  his  happy  smile,  asked  me  the  same  old 


INCIDENTS  163 

question,  "  What  time  is  it,  Munson,  by  Lieutenant 
.Wright?" 

When  I  was  captured  my  "  Lieutenant  Wright " 
watch  became  part  of  the  spoils  of  my  conquerors,  but 
in  all  the  excitement  and  terror  of  my  downfall  I  noted 
the  appearance  of  the  fellow  who  took  my  watch  and, 
when  I  arrived  at  the  headquarters  of  my  captors  that 
night  I  asked  the  Colonel  of  the  regiment  (I  think  it 
was  Farnsworth  of  Illinois,  who  later  was  a  Congress 
man)  to  try  and  get  my  family  heirloom  returned  to 
me.  I  pointed  out  the  man  who  had  it  and  it  was 
given  up,  but  not  to  me.  It  was  sent  along  to  the  Old 
Capitol  prison  accompanying  the  prisoners. 

When  I  escaped  from  that  prison  early  in  1865,  I 
was  in  such  a  hurry  that  I  forgot  to  ask  for  my  watch. 

In  June,  1865,  when  the  men  who  were  in  prison 
with  me  came  home  from  Fort  Warren,  one  of  them 
told  me  that  when  my  escape  was  discovered  and  our 
men  were  sent  away  to  Boston,  the  superintendent  of 
the  prison  restored  to  each  man  his  personal  effects, 
and  when  he  held  up  that  watch  and  asked  who  it 
belonged  to,  the  boys  told  him  it  was  Munson's. 
"  Well,"  he  remarked,  "  if  Munson  will  call  here  for  it 
he  can  have  it."  When  I  heard  this  I  wrote  him  a 
request  to  send  me  the  watch  and,  two  days  later, 
received  it;  as  it  is  still  among  my  possessions  it  has 
really  now  become  an  old  family  affair. 

I  met  General  Merritt  at  an  entertainment  in  St. 
Louis,  ten  years  after  the  war,  and  told  him  of  my 
capture  of  Lieutenant  Wright,  and  he  said  he  was 
glad  to  learn  the  facts,  because  the  Lieutenant  had 


164  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth  that  morning 
and,  as  no  word  was  ever  heard  of  or  from  him,  he 
always  supposed  he  had  deserted.  I  heard  that  he 
died  in  prison  in  Richmond,  but  if  I  am  mistaken,  and 
if  he  is  still  alive,  and  if  he  reads  this  and  wants  his 
watch  I  will  send  it  to  him ;  but  not  his  pocket-book. 

I  captured  another  watch  that  same  summer  from 
another  man  of  Sheridan's  Command  and,  at  the  close 
of  the  war  I  gave  it  to  Mr.  John  Carr,  a  citizen  who 
lived  on  the  mountainside  near  Paris.  When  most  of 
our  men  went  over  to  the  Valley  on  April  22,  1865, 
to  surrender  to  General  Hancock,  Mr.  Carr  went  along 
to  get  his  parole  also,  thinking  perhaps  that  sympa 
thizing  citizens  were  included  in  the  general  terms  of 
the  surrender.  The  old  gentleman  was  pretty  well 
frightened  at  his  surroundings  when  he  reached  the 
Valley,  and  told  a  friend  of  his  he  expected  every 
minute  to  be  his  last.  He  wanted  to  know  what  time 
it  was  but  he  was  afraid  to  pull  out  that  watch  on 
the  street,  for  fear  its  former  owner  might  recognize 
it  and  put  him  in  jail.  The  possession  of  it  worried 
him  so  that  he  slipped  it  down  inside  his  trousers  and 
let  it  drop  into  his  sock,  and  getting  on  his  horse  he 
hurried  out  of  town  to  his  home. 

Sam  Alexander  was  one  of  our  heavy-weights, 
though  he  was  only  a  youngster.  I  would  not  like 
to  say  how  much  he  weighed,  but  it  was  close  around 
the  two  hundred  and  forty  pound  mark.  It  did  not 
interfere  in  the  least,  however,  with  his  riding.  He 
came  from  Campbell  Court  House,  Virginia,  and  was 
a  son  of  Captain  Jack  Alexander,  one  of  the  best- 


INCIDENTS  165 

known  men  in  the  state  and  once  the  owner  of  the 
celebrated  race  horse  "  Red  Eye,"  by  Boston,  the  sire 
of  Lexington.  Sam  came  by  his  love  for  fine  horses 
honestly,  but  I  do  not  know  where  he  got  his  fluent 
and  variegated  assortment  of  profanity.  There  was 
not  a  better  rider  in  the  Command,  and  there  was  not 
a  gamer  man.  When  he  swept  down  on  a  sutler 
his  process  of  absorption  was  unique.  He  could  ex 
tract  from  the  victim  his  last  gasp  of  protest,  as  well 
as  his  last  penny's  worth  of  goods.  I  only  mention 
this  boy's  name,  among  my  stories  of  time-pieces,  be 
cause  I  am  reminded  of  him  whenever  I  think  of  a 
captured  watch.  It  was  a  fruitless  raid  for  Sam  when 
he  did  not  come  home  with  a  newly  absorbed  watch. 

There  were  other  specialists  in  our  Command. 
Some  would  have  a  peculiar  fondness  for  new  pistols, 
and  in  every  fight  would  try  to  capture  weapons  newer 
than  their  own.  Others  made  a  point  of  getting  hand 
some  saddles,  and  still  others  wanted  fancy  saddle 
blankets.  It  is  perhaps  not  strange  that  a  number  of 
the  men  made  pocket-books  a  specialty.  I  believe  I 
was  of  this  number. 

While  the  effect  of  robbing  a  captured  soldier  was 
felt  largely  by  the  victim,  it  formed  its  part  of  the 
general  purpose  of  "  harassing  and  annoying  the 
enemy."  It  made  a  man  in  the  service  less  anxious 
to  fall  into  his  captor's  hands  a  second  time,  after  one 
experience  of  being  fleeced.  I  recall  at  even  this  late 
day  that  I  never  had  any  desire  to  become  the  guest 
of  the  Eighth  Illinois  Cavalry  after  that  gallant  band 
had  gone  through  me.  And  that  just  reminds  me: 


166  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA1 

It  was  the  Major  of  the  regiment  who  got  my  pipe 
and  silk  tobacco  bag.  Surely  a  poor  private  can  be 
forgiven  for  indulging  in  his  raids  on  the  prisoners' 
pocket-books,  when  the  commissioned  officers  set  the 
example. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

I    AM    CAPTURED 

AFTER  the  war,  when  the  Nation  was  healing  its 
wounds  and  reminiscence  was  rife  in  the  land, 
my  dear  old  mother  met  a  friend  on  the  Rich 
mond  Capitol  square  and  stopped  to  talk  about  the 
great  conflict. 

"  Mrs.  Munson,"  ventured  the  friend,  who  knew 
my  connection  with  the  Partisan  Rangers,  "  what  do 
you  reckon  was  the  worst  whipping  Colonel  Mosby's 
men  got  during  the  war?" 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  anyone  discuss  it,"  replied 
my  mother,  smiling  to  herself,  "  but  I  reckon  it  must 
have  been  the  day  the  Yankees  captured  my  boy 
Johnny." 

A  good  many  mothers  were  under  the  impression 
that  the  entire  conflict  was  fought  right  around  their 
children,  and  those  who  sat  waiting  at  home  for  the 
soldier  who  never  came  back  had  some  reason  for 
their  beliefs.  Fortunately  for  me  and  for  the  good 
woman  who  dated  Mosby's  greatest  misfortune  as 
simultaneous  with  my  capture,  I  succeeded  in  escaping 
from  the  Yankees  and  in  returning  to  the  South  before 
the  trouble  had  ceased. 

It  was  not  strange  that  I  should  get  into  the  Federal 
drag  net  sooner  or  later.  I  had  been  enjoying  a  lot 
of  liberty  during  the  two  last  years  and,  when  it  came 


1 68  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

time  for  me,  as  it  did  in  the  latter  end  of  1864,  to 
throw  up  my  hands  and  "  come  along  with  us,"  I  did 
so  with  that  same  alacrity  with  which  other  hands 
had  been  thrown  up  to  me. 

It  came  about  in  this  wise.  A  newly  appointed 
Captain,  chosen  by  Mosby  from  what  he  used  to  call 
his  blue  hen's  chickens,  because  of  their  unfailing  ex 
cellence,  had  a  chance  to  win  his  spurs  in  a  fight 
that  was  about  due  to  come  off  near  Upperville.  A 
detachment  from  the  Eighth  Illinois  Cavalry  was  on 
a  short  raid  from  their  camp  near  Rectortown,  to  Up 
perville,  and  Colonel  Mosby  ordered  them  attacked. 
The  officer  to  whom  I  refer  had  been  with  Mosby 
since  the  very  inception  of  the  Partisan  Rangers  and, 
as  an  individual  fighting  man,  had  no  superior  in  the 
Command,  his  promotion  from  the  ranks  being  a  just 
reward  for  a  continuous  record  of  brilliant  service. 
His  waving  plume  was  ever  at  the  head  of  the  column 
when  there  was  fighting  to  be  done,  and  everybody  in 
the  Command  loved  Walter  Frankland. 

Captain  Frankland's  plan  was  to  divide  his  Com 
mand  for  the  purpose  of  charging  a  stone- wall  of 
Federal  cavalry  in  front  and  flank  simultaneously.  It 
did  not  work  if  my  memory  serves  me  right,  as  the 
enemy  had  our  first  detachment  whipped  before  Lieu 
tenant  Grogan  with  his  flanking  party  reached  the 
scene.  Grogan  had  no  idea  that  Frankland  had  been 
disposed  of,  until  the  Federals  turned  their  attention 
to  his  little  squad,  and  discomfited  him  at  the  same 
handy  pace. 

They  poured  a  deadly  carbine  fire  into  us  as  we 


I   AM    CAPTURED  169 

rushed  on.  We  were  charging  in  fours,  and  I  was  at 
the  front,  and  did  not  know  that  our  men  had  wavered 
and  turned  off  from  the  hopeless  attack  until  it  was 
too  late  to  follow  them.  When  I  discovered  my  pre 
dicament  I  believe  it  would  have  been  a  safe  thing 
for  me  to  have  headed  my  horse  straight  at  their  line 
and  trusted  to  my  breaking  my  way  through  by  the 
impetus  of  the  charge.  It  takes  a  good  strong  horse 
to  withstand  the  charge  of  another  one,  head  on. 
What  I  should  have  done,  and  what  I  did,  are  two 
widely  different  things.  Luck,  too,  was  against  me. 
I  only  realized  that  I  was  up  against  it,  and  must  try 
to  get  away.  When  I  headed  my  mare  for  a  high  and 
forbidding  stone  fence  the  animal  refused  to  take 
the  leap.  For  an  instant,  as  she  approached  the  ugly 
barrier,  I  thought  she  would  go  over,  but  that  short, 
firm  step  that  a  jumper  makes  just  before  rising  failed, 
and  a  wave  of  anxiety  passed  through  me  as  she  hesi 
tated.  I  tried  to  lift  her  with  the  movement  that  the 
rider  involuntarily  makes,  and  touched  her  with  my 
spur.  She  trembled,  gave  a  frightened  little  neigh, 
and  fell  back  on  her  haunches. 

It  looked  bad  for  me.  I  jumped  from  her  back, 
scrambled  over  the  wall  on  my  own  hook,  and  was 
breaking  the  world's  record  in  a  fine  two  hundred 
yard  dash  for  some  timber  on  the  other  side.  At  one 
time  I  thought  I  would  actually  get  away,  but  the  Yan 
kees  found  a  gap  in  the  wall  that  I  had  overlooked  and 
got  on  my  trail  at  once.  My  mare  jumped  the  wall 
aftt*  me  like  a  deer,  and  with  head  and  tail  up  de 
fiantly,  though  really  as  badly  scared  as  I,  dashed 


1 70  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

away  across  the  field  and  was  found  the  next  day 
riderless,  miles  away  from  the  scene  of  my  troubles. 
I  fancied,  as  I  saw  her  fading  away  from  me,  that 
she  looked  back  pityingly,  but  I  could  fancy  any  old 
thing  just  then. 

Before  I  got  a  hundred  yards  from  the  wall  they 
pounced  on  me  and  made  the  most  complete  capture  of 
a  rebel  ever  witnessed.  About  twenty  men  made  as 
many  passes  at  me,  and  the  baubles  and  splendors  of 
guerrilla  life  disappeared.  They  got  my  hat  and 
plumes,  my  gloves  and  pistols,  my  watch  and  belt,  and 
all  my  personal  belongings.  Before  I  had  time  to 
make  the  slightest  protest,  one  fellow  sat  me  down 
abruptly,  put  his  foot  on  me,  and  relieved  me  of  my 
boots  in  a  most  startling  and  finished  manner.  Talk 
about  Mosby's  men  going  through  a  man !  There  was 
not  a  man  in  our  Command  who  could  swoop  down 
and  capture  a  pair  of  boots  like  the  man  who  took 
mine !  It  was  my  initial  touch  at  the  game  of  retalia 
tion,  and  the  Yankees  trimmed  me  well. 

I  have  very  recently  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  W.  S. 
Freeman,  who  is  now  a  prominent  business  man  in 
Le  Mars,  Iowa,  in  which  he  said,  "  I  was  one  of  the 
men  who  captured  you,  and  my  share  of  the  swag 
was  your  spurs.  I  wish  I  had  them  now,  so  I  could 
send  them  to  you.  Another  one  of  our  little  party 
was  Mr.  James  How,  of  Audubon,  Iowa.  You  over 
rated  the  number  of  men  who  captured  you;  there 
were  only  a  few  of  us."  I  answered  his  friendly  letter 
and  told  him  my  mental  condition  was  such,  when  he 
claims  to  have  first  formed  my  acquaintance,  that  I 


I    AM    CAPTURED  171 

could  imagine  his  whole  regiment  had  a  hand  in  the 
affair. 

I  did  not  regret  the  loss  of  any  of  my  belongings 
as  much  as  that  of  my  watch.  Pocket-book,  knife, 
pipe,  tobacco-bag  and  everything  else  could  be  dupli 
cated  when  I  should  come  back  home,  but  that  watch 
was  my  pride. 

Not  many  months  before  that  day  I  had  ridden  out 
on  the  turnpike  in  the  Valley  and  captured  an  officer 
who  was  riding  towards  me.  He  was  Lieutenant 
Wright,  Provost-Marshal  for  General  Merritt.  The 
first  thing  I  took  from  him  after  disarming  him  was 
this  watch.  Everything  else  he  had  followed  in  the 
regular  order,  but  I  paid  no  special  attention  to  them. 
I  fondled  that  watch,  for  it  was  the  first  one  I  had 
ever  captured. 

I  had  learned  to  appreciate  what  we  were  pleased 
to  call  "  a  fat  capture,"  for  a  great  many  of  the  men 
we  took  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  the  paymaster  to 
arrive.  I  remember  in  a  fight  we  had  near  Duffield 
Station  on  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio  Railroad,  I  captured, 
single  handed,  five  poor,  frightened  infantrymen  who 
had  thrown  down  their  guns  and  were  absolutely 
harmless.  From  all  the  five  men  I  only  got  sixty-five 
cents.  I  had  no  heart  in  the  business  for  days  after. 
One  of  the  best  men  we  had  was  big,  fat  Sam  Alex 
ander.  He  was  a  dare-devil  and  much  given  to  pro 
fanity.  In  an  ugly  fight  one  day  Sam  aimed  his  pistol 
at  a  man's  head  and  said :  "  Give  me  your  pocket- 
book,  you  blankety  blank,  blank." 

"  I  have  not  got  any  pocket-book,"  he  said. 


172  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

"  Well  then,  surrender,"  Sam  said,  as  he  proceeded 
to  disarm  the  prisoner.  But  this  is  a  digression. 

I  was  taken  with  some  other  prisoners  over  to  Rec- 
tortown,  and  locked  up  in  the  station  of  the  old  Manas- 
sas  Gap  Railroad.  Had  I  known  that  the  distance 
from  the  second  story  to  the  ground  was  less  than 
fifteen  feet,  I  might  have  jumped  it  and  got  away.  As 
it  was,  I  remained  there  that  night  and  got  some  much- 
needed  rest  and  sleep.  The  following  day  we  were 
taken  to  Alexandria  by  rail.  In  my  guard  I  recog 
nized  a  man  whom  I  had  befriended  the  previous  year, 
when  he  had  been  my  prisoner  in  Fauquier  County. 
He  had  not  forgotten  the  circumstance  and  was  willing 
that  I  should  jump  off  the  train  when  it  came  to  the 
next  stop.  Here  was  a  little  light  ahead;  some  of  the 
bread  I  had  cast  upon  the  waters  bid  fair  to  return. 
The  next  thing  I  knew  my  friendly  guard  was  relieved 
by  another  man,  and  the  bread  became  dough. 

I  spent  the  next  night  in  the  old  slave  pen  in  Alex 
andria.  "  Served  me  right,"  remarked  one  of  my 
fellow  prisoners.  On  the  following  day  I  was  marched 
into  Washington  to  the  Old  Capitol  prison.  My  rai 
ment  consisted  of  a  suit  of  underclothes  protected  by 
a  cast-off  outfit  that  I  had  picked  up  somewhere  after 
I  had  been  put  through  the  third  degree  by  the  Eighth 
Illinois  boys  and,  in  addition,  I  carried  in  my  hand  a 
pair  of  rough  horsehide  boots  that  replaced  the 
twenty-seven  dollar  Wellingtons  which  had  been 
skinned  off  me.  I  could  not  wear  the  boots,  and  I 
did  not  care  to  give  them  up,  for  I  had  hopes  that  I 
might  be  able  to  exchange  them  for  some  others  to 


I    AM    CAPTURED  173 

suit  my  size  and  taste  in  foot-gear,  so  I  carried  them 
around  with  me  by  the  straps. 

From  Alexandria  we  were  marched  up  the  road 
and  across  the  long  bridge  to  Washington  and,  when 
we  swung  into  Pennsylvania  Avenue  I  was  barefooted, 
as  my  socks  had  worn  through  on  the  march.  Beside 
me  marched  Dennis  Darden,  a  Washington  man,  who 
knew  every  foot  of  the  locality  through  which  we  were 
passing.  Carefully  we  worked  our  way  down  our  line 
till  we  were  the  last  two  in  the  ranks,  for  we  had  ar 
ranged  to  strike  down  the  guards  on  either  side  of  us, 
when  we  reached  a  certain  alley,  and  make  a  dash  for 
freedom.  I  figured  on  smashing  my  guard  in  the 
face  with  the  horsehide  boots  and  pulling  his  musket 
down  over  his  back  before  he  could  empty  its  contents 
into  my  rebellious  bosom.  Incidentally,  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  make  a  better  run  than  I  made  two  days 
previously.  Just  before  we  got  to  the  alley  some  of 
Darden's  friends,  learning  of  his  capture,  gathered 
along  the  line  of  march  and  brought  up  in  the  rear, 
following  at  our  heels,  and  offering  cigars.  Dennis 
turned  pale  and  whispered  to  me  that  any  attempt  to 
escape  would  involve  his  friends,  who  would  be  ar 
rested  and  possibly  shot  as  accomplices  in  our  escape. 
About  sunset  we  reached  the  Old  Capitol  prison, 
at  the  southeast  corner  of  First  and  A  streets,  almost 
opposite  the  Senate  Chamber.  I  was  assigned,  with 
thirty-six  others,  to  a  room  in  the  front  of  the  building 
overlooking  the  Capitol  of  the  United  States,  with  the 
gilded  statue  of  Liberty  on  the  dome.  She  stood 
against  the  winter  sky  and  beckoned  me  to  the  freedom 


174  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

that  she  has  since  given  to  the  oppressed  in  many 
climes ;  but  in  '64,  I  spent  long  days  and  weary  nights 
at  my  grated  window,  playing  checkers  with  my  nose, 
wondering  what  particular  significance  that  golden 
goddess  with  hand  outstretched  had  for  me.  She 
looked  awfully  inviting,  but  I  could  not  accept. 

There  was  not  much  in  prison  life  that  interested 
me.  What  I  was  most  concerned  about  was  how  to 
escape.  I  racked  my  brain  in  vain  endeavor  for  some 
brilliant  idea  by  which  I  could  bid  adieu  to  everything 
north  of  Loudoun  county,  Virginia.  One  night, 
while  exercising  in  the  narrow  yard  in  which  we  were 
permitted  to  move  about,  I  observed  the  entrance  of 
the  scavengers  who  came  every  twenty- four  hours  to 
clean  out  the  prison.  It  occurred  to  me  that  I  might 
make  a  deal  with  one  of  these  men  to  escape  in  the 
cart  they  used.  I  arranged  to  give  one  of  them  a 
five-dollar  gold  piece,  provided  he  would  help  me  out. 
I  had  ascertained  from  him  that  he  was  a  former  slave 
of  a  friend  of  mine  in  Virginia.  He  was  willing 
enough,  but  offered  the  objection  that  I  was  a  white 
man,  while  the  scavengers  were  negroes.  I  agreed  to 
take  care  of  that  part  of  the  transaction. 

That  night  I  burned  a  big  cork,  and  in  the  shadow 
of  the  exercising  yard  I  blackened  my  face  like  a  min 
strel  and  sauntered  up  to  the  scavengers'  cart.  The 
two  men,  anxious  that  I  should  play  my  part  in  a  nat 
ural  and  easy  manner,  handed  me  their  shovels,  and 
ordered  me  to  hustle  around  lively  and  show  what 
stuff  I  was  made  of.  I  had  no  choice  but  to  shovel 
garbage,  and  I  put  in  half  an  hour  of  the  hardest  work 


I    AM    CAPTURED  175 

of  my  life.  The  perspiration  mixed  with  the  burnt 
cork,  and  I  looked  more  like  a  coal  heaver  than  a 
Washington  coon.  Nevertheless,  when  the  work  was 
done,  I  jumped  on  the  cart  and  we  drove  indifferently 
towards  the  exit.  We  passed  the  post  and  it  looked  as 
if  we  would  get  away.  At  the  outer  gate,  however,  a 
figure  stepped  out  of  the  shadow  and  a  well  rounded 
Irish- American  voice  remarked,  "  Git  down  from  that 
and  go  back  to  your  quarthers :  two  of  yez  nagers 
come  in,  and  three  of  yez  is  thrying  to  go  out."  I 
crept  back  humbly  to  my  grated  quarters. 

Within  a  week  I  had  another  plan.  It  contemplated 
making  an  exit  in  the  contract  baker's  wagon  which 
came  into  the  prison  yard  every  day  to  deliver  bread. 
One  morning  when  conditions  seemed  to  be  about 
right,  I  jumped  into  the  wagon,  worked  my  way  under 
a  stack  of  warm,  white  loaves,  and  snuggled  down 
in  the  flour  dust,  waiting  for  my  baker  coachman  to 
come  out  and  drive  me  away. 

One  of  my  large  feet  protruded  from  the  bread  pile 
and  was  discovered  by  one  of  the  eagle-eyed  reserve 
guard,  who  dragged  me  from  the  friendly  loaves, 
sputtering  and  wild  with  rage,  much  as  a  butcher 
pulls  a  side  of  beef  from  an  ice-box.  I  was  promptly 
marched  off  to  the  guard  house  and  advised,  privately, 
that  my  next  attempt  at  rambling  would  be  met  with 
something  calculated  to  keep  me  in  for  an  indefinite 
period. 

I  was  obliged  to  resort  to  these  expedients  because 
at  that  time  the  usual  methods  of  escape  had  been 
worked  to  death,  and  necessity  had  become  the  mother 


1 76  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

of  many  new  inventions.  Tunneling,  uprising,  cutting 
bars  at  windows,  bribing  guards,  and  other  familiar 
devices  of  prisoners  were  amply  provided  against.  One 
of  our  men  found  a  guard  who  for  a  consideration 
agreed  to  let  him  escape  through  a  window  under 
which  he  was  on  duty.  The  poor  prisoner  sawed 
through  the  iron  bars  of  his  window,  made  a  rope  from 
his  bed  clothes,  and  with  infinite  caution  at  the  ap 
pointed  hour,  slid  slowly  down  to  what  he  imagined 
was  freedom.  Just  as  his  feet  touched  the  pavement 
and  the  thrill  of  liberty  began  to  fill  his  soul,  a  bayonet 
driven  by  the  friendly  guard,  pierced  his  back  and 
passed  through  his  heart.  The  guard  was  rewarded 
with  a  sergeantcy.  A  well-deserved  promotion,  per 
haps. 

The  confinement  was  beginning  to  wear  on  me. 
While  the  food  and  the  treatment  were  in  every  way 
satisfactory,  I  felt  an  intense  longing  to  go  back  to 
Virginia,  where  the  fighting  and  raiding  and  hurrah 
ing  were  going  on,  and  where  I  had  friends,  rela 
tions  and  countrymen.  All  my  efforts  to  escape  had 
come  to  naught  and  it  seemed  that  I  was  destined  to 
remain  in  prison  until  the  Federal  Government  saw  fit 
to  turn  me  loose.  Nevertheless,  I  stuck  to  the  prin 
ciples  of  eternal  vigilance  and  watched  the  game  as  it 
went  on  around  me. 

Tn  the  daily  life  of  the  prison  I  observed  a  short, 
black-haired  man,  a  member  of  the  hospital  staff,  who 
passed  in  and  out  of  the  main  entrance  thrice  a  day. 
I  found  out  that  he  took  his  meals  outside,  and  that 
he  was  never  challenged  by  the  guards.  The  thought 


I   AM    CAPTURED  177 

occurred  to  me  that  I  might  surreptitiously  take  his 
place.  Upon  reflection,  however,  I  observed  that  he 
was  short  and  stumpy,  about  forty  and  black-haired, 
while  I  was  a  tall,  rakish,  clipper-built  blonde  of  eight 
een;  that  I  wore  gray,  while  he  wore  blue;  that  he 
was  out  while  I  was  in.  Nevertheless  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  take  one  more  chance  for  better  or  for  worse, 
for  life  or  death.  This  hospital  steward's  insignia  con 
sisted  of  a  strip  of  green  about  two  inches  wide,  bor 
dered  with  faded  yellow  braid.  In  the  center  of  the 
strip  was  a  faded  figure  of  Mercury  with  a  serpent 
coiled  around  the  staff  of  the  wand,  with  spreading 
wings  on  top.  This  figure  was  also  in  yellow  or  gold. 
I  never  got  close  enough  to  inspect  the  design  care 
fully,  but  I  had  a  pretty  correct  idea  of  its  general 
characteristics  fixed  in  my  mind.  He  wore  one  on 
either  arm. 

I  had  written  an  appealing,  and  probably  exagger 
ated  letter  to  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Margaret  E.  Sangster,  of 
New  York,  who  since  that  day  has  endeared  herself 
to  countless  thousands  of  readers  all  over  the  world 
by  her  graceful  writings  in  prose  and  verse.  In  the 
epistle  I  described  prison  life  so  graphically  that  she 
sent  me  from  the  north  a  generous  supply  of  good  gold 
coin  with  which  to  relieve  the  hardships  I  depicted. 
Sometimes  I  think  that  if  novelists  could  spend  a  few 
years  in  jail,  they  could  turn  out  literature  that  would 
have  an  irresistible  appeal  to  their  readers'  hearts. 

With  a  portion  of  the  money  sent  by  my  aunt,  I 
proceeded  to  mould  myself  into  a  hospital  steward. 
My  first  purchase  was  a  blue  blouse  from  a  Yankee 


178  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

prisoner  who  was  in  for  jumping  the  bounty  for  the 
seventeenth  time,  as  he  informed  me.  To  this  day 
my  aunt  has  never  forgiven  me  for  using  her  loyal 
gold  to  bribe  a  northern  soldier,  even  though  he  was 
a  bounty  jumper.  But  I  consoled  myself  with  the 
reflection  that  I  needed  the  liberty  and  that,  if  one  of 
my  name  were  ever  to  accomplish  anything  in  a  mili 
tary  way  and  make  it  famous,  she  must  contribute  her 
share  to  it,  since  she  was  a  Munson. 

The  next  step  in  the  scheme  was  to  trade  my  gray 
trousers  for  a  pair  of  dark-colored  ones  which,  at  a 
pinch,  and  in  the  evening,  might  be  taken  for  good 
northern  blue.  Then  came  the  rub;  where  was  I  to 
get  the  green  strips  so  necessary  for  the  strips  on  the 
arms?  How  could  I  find  the  yellow  to  make  the 
figure  of  Mercury?  I  was  in  distress. 

After  cogitating  over  the  matter  I  recollected  that 
some  of  the  southern  uniforms  contained  a  piece  of 
green  cloth  sewed  inside  of  the  gray,  or  rather  I  thought 
I  recollected  it.  How  was  I  to  get  at  these  treasures? 
Only  by  ripping  the  coats  or  pockets  open.  Where 
upon  for  the  next  week  when  my  comrades  were  asleep, 
I  got  up,  ripped  their  coats  open,  and  prospected  for 
two  strips  of  green  cloth,  holding  the  garments  up  to 
the  moonlight.  Failing  in  my  quest,  I  sewed  up  the 
rents,  and  passed  on  to  the  next  coat.  I  was  obliged 
to  work  slowly  and  noiselessly.  I  did  not  find  what 
I  most  desired,  and  quoting  the  old  saw,  "  Hope  de 
ferred  maketh  the  heart  sick,"  I  metaphorically  threw 
up  my  hands  and  abandoned  the  attempt. 

A  fortnight  passed  uneventfully  and  my  determina- 


I   AM    CAPTURED  179 

tion  began  to  reassert  itself.  My  one  object  in  life 
now  was  to  find  something  green,  but  oddly  enough 
it  was  the  one  color  which  seemed  to  have  disappeared 
from  the  face  of  the  world.  Even  the  trees,  rattling 
their  bare  branches  in  the  winter  winds,  had  lost  their 
leaves,  and  the  emerald  hope  was  realized  only  in  my 
dreams. 

One  afternoon  I  wandered  into  the  sutler's  shop, 
and  while  dealing  with  him  my  eyes  fell  upon  a  green 
pasteboard  box  on  one  of  the  upper  shelves.  Luck  of 
all  luck;  it  was  the  exact  shade  I  had  been  seeking 
for  the  past  month.  I  began  to  tremble  with  excite 
ment.  Did  the  sutler  notice  my  emotion?  No.  I 
began  to  talk  about  needing  a  box  to  keep  my  valuables 
in.  "  That  one  up  there  on  the  shelf  will  do,"  I  ven 
tured,  pointing  to  the  green  treasure. 

"  You  can  have  it,  young  fellow,"  said  the  sutler, 
reaching  up  and  pulling  the  box  down  from  its  posi 
tion  with  the  tip  of  his  finger,  "  but  you  need  not 
be  afraid  of  burglars  around  here."  He  laughed  at 
his  joke  immoderately,  and  with  a  final  chuckle  tossed 
the  priceless  thing  into  my  receptive  hands.  I  hurried 
away  to  my  quarters.  Ye  gods !  but  I  was  happy. 

That  night  I  got  up  cautiously  and,  with  nothing  to 
see  by  but  the  light  that  flickered  through  the  grated 
window,  proceeded  to  cut  strips  of  the  proper  dimen 
sions  from  the  green  box.  I  had  scarcely  cut  into  the 
paper  before  I  discovered  that  the  body  of  the  box 
was  yellow  straw  board  of  a  dull  old-gold  color  that 
would  easily  pass  muster  for  the  one  of  Mercury  and 
the  coiled  serpent.  I  almost  broke  into  cheers  in  my 


i8o  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

excess  of  joy.  I  found  that,  by  trimming  the  edge  of 
each  strip  of  its  superficial  green  layer,  a  nice  yellow 
border  was  to  be  had. 

When  I  had  fastened  the  two  strips  of  the  proper 
length  so  that  they  would  encircle  my  arms  at  the 
biceps,  I  went  carefully  to  work  on  a  crude  outline  of 
the  figure  of  Mercury  and  the  serpent,  which  after 
infinite  pains  began  to  assume  the  proportion  of  the 
real  article.  Michael  Angelo  never  worked  so  hard 
over  drawings  as  I  did  over  these.  Perhaps  he  had 
never  experienced  such  inspiration  as  that  under  which 
I  labored.  After  what  seemed  an  interminable  time 
I  completed  the  outline  drawing  and  peeled  the  green 
layers  off  the  cardboard,  exposing  the  precious  yellow 
golden  tint  underneath.  Then  I  drew  on  my  blue 
blouse,  pinned  the  green  badges  of  office  on  either 
arm  and  stood  fearful  and  furtive  in  the  silence,  the 
prison  hospital  steward.  Then  the  gray  light  of  morn 
ing  crept  in  upon  me.  Thinking  of  my  two  clumsy 
efforts  at  deception  I  felt  a  great  fear  rising  in  my 
heart  that  perhaps  failure  was  to  be  the  end,  and  that 
the  golden  goddess  on  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  might 
beckon  to  me  in  vain. 

A  guttural  tremolo,  loud  and  echoing,  broke  from 
one  of  the  sleepers,  rousing  me  from  my  reverie. 
Without  further  delay  I  whisked  the  blouse  off,  tucked 
it  under  my  bunk  in  the  farthest  corner  and  crept 
into  bed.  I  could  not  sleep,  for  there  passed  in  review 
before  me  scenes  of  the  fight  at  Dranesville,  dear  old 
Chapman  and  Richards  leading  their  divisions  to  bat 
tle,  John  Puryear  dashing  madly  among  the  Yankees 


I   AM    CAPTURED  181 

in  some  dare-devil  expedition,  Captain  Mont  joy  sing 
ing  his  happy  songs  to  the  morning,  and  Colonel 
Mosby  standing  with  his  hands  at  his  back,  gazing 
across  the  Potomac  towards  Washington.  I  wanted 
to  be  with  the  Command.  As  the  memories  of  the 
past  two  years  rushed  upon  me,  I  felt  my  chin  quiver 
and  found  myself  swallowing  a  big  lump  in  my  cheer 
less  rebel  throat. 

In  the  morning  of  the  following  day  I  took  Dennis 
Darden  into  my  confidence.  He  belonged  to  my  com 
pany  and  I  knew  he  could  be  trusted.  The  prevalence 
of  spies  in  all  the  prisons  made  me  cautious,  which  ac 
counts  for  my  reticence  during  the  preparatory  work. 
Before  the  war  Darden  had  been  in  the  secret  service 
department  of  the  Government,  and  I  knew  he  could 
instruct  me  what  to  do  if  I  succeeded  in  making  my 
escape.  He  did  not  take  kindly  to  the  plan  and  advised 
me  not  to  make  the  attempt.  He  urged  that  every  step 
in  my  path  was  fraught  with  danger,  and  that  if  de 
tected  I  was  a  dead  boy.  He  reminded  me  that  the 
reserve  force  had  orders  to  kill  the  next  man  trying 
to  escape,  and  volunteered  the  cheerful  information 
that  the  Potomac  was  impassable  in  winter.  He  wound 
up,  however,  by  giving  me  the  names  and  addresses  of 
several  people  in  Washington  to  whom  I  could  go  for 
help  if  I  ran  the  gauntlet  and  got  away  alive. 

The  prison  rules  permitted  only  two  men  to  leave 
any  one  room  and  enter  the  yard  at  the  same  time, 
except  for  meals,  and  Darden  therefore  agreed  to  ac 
company  me  to  the  enclosure  after  dark.  I  did  not 
dare  to  put  on  my  blouse  in  the  room  occupied  by 


1 82  A    MOSBY    GUERRILLA 

my  comrades ;  not  that  I  mistrusted  them,  but  I  feared 
indiscretion  of  some  kind.  For  that  reason  Dennis 
was  the  only  man  who  shared  my  hopes  and  fears. 

There  was  a  little  interval  of  time  between  the  last 
of  twilight  and  the  lighting  of  the  prison  candles  in 
our  rooms,  and  these  were  the  saddest  moments  out 
of  the  twenty- four  hours  that  made  up  the  day.  It 
was  then  that  we  used  to  think  of  home,  and  many 
a  wan  face  turned  to  some  friendly  shadows,  while 
silent  tears  trickled  down  the  cold  cheeks  of  stern  sol 
diers.  I  have  seen  plenty  of  brave  men  cry,  and  to 
this  day  I  do  not  like  the  late  twilight  when  I  am 
alone. 

It  was  at  this  hour  that  I  changed  my  gray  coat 
for  the  blue  blouse.  Picking  up  Tom  Love's  over 
coat  to  hide  the  precious  green  insignia,  I  beckoned  to 
Dennis  Darden  to  follow  me,  and  passed  through  the 
building  to  the  yard,  with  Dennis  at  my  side,  our 
nervous  hands  grasped  tightly  in  what  was  to  be  a 
farewell  grip. 

The  sentries,  believing  that  we  were  simply  en  route 
for  our  evening's  exercise,  passed  along  without  com 
ment.  We  trod  the  cold  floor  like  specters,  both  ready 
to  "  burst  out  crying."  I  wish  he  were  alive  today  so 
I  could  once  again  press  the  faithful  old  hand  that 
clung  to  mine  as  a  father's  clings  to  his  son's. 

When  we  got  into  the  shadow  of  the  yard  I  took 
off  Tom  Love's  overcoat  and  gave  it  to  Dennis  to 
carry  up  stairs.  He  felt  at  his  throat  as  if  his  collar 
was  choking  him  and,  turning,  walked  back  without 
looking  at  me  again. 


I  AM  CAPTURED  183 

After  the  war  he  confessed  that  he  was  so  wrought 
up  that  he  was  afraid  to  see  me  start  for  the  door, 
fearing  that,  in  his  emotion,  he  would  cry  out  and 
attract  attention.  I  watched  him  cross  the  yard  and 
disappear  in  the  shadows  at  the  other  end  of  the  en 
closure. 

Suddenly  a  great  and  overpowering  dread  of  the 
first  sentry  came  over  me  and  I  stood  as  if  petrified 
for  at  least  a  minute.  Then  the  old  longing  for  liberty 
asserted  itself  and,  without  further  ado,  I  marched, 
numb  with  uncertainty,  up  to  the  main  doors  leading 
into  the  long  hall  through  which  I  must  pass  to  free 
dom.  The  sentry  made  no  protest  and,  with  that  for 
a  first  success,  I  threw  out  my  chest  and  held  my 
arms  so  that  the  insignia  of  the  hospital  steward  were 
prominently  displayed.  I  passed  all  the  inner  guards 
unchallenged,  and  stepped  by  the  night  relief  force 
just  being  formed  in  the  hall,  finally  reaching  the  outer 
door  of  the  prison,  which  was  opened  for  me  and 
held  so  by  the  man  on  post. 

A  blast  of  cold,  fresh,  free  air  smote  me  in  the  face. 
A  man  on  horseback  with  his  cloak  wrapped  around 
him,  cantered  by  on  the  hard  pavement;  lights  glit 
tering  from  the  houses  in  the  distance  reached  out  long 
arms  and  splashed  on  my  green  badges.  The  sentry 
bowed  familiarly  to  me,  and  in  three  more  steps  I 
passed  through  the  gates  that  had  held  me  prisoner 
and  heard  them  jangle  and  rattle  as  they  closed  behind 
me.  The  sharp  click  of  the  bolt  in  the  big  lock  sounded 
like  a  pistol  shot  as  it  slipped  into  place.  Involuntarily 
I  contracted  all  my  muscles,  literally  shrank  myself  up 


1 84  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

like  a  boy  about  to  receive  the  paternal  shingle,  and 
crossed  the  street  with  a  wildly  beating  heart,  but  free ! 
free!  free! 

Dennis  Darden  hurried  back  to  my  former  quarters, 
took  our  friend  Captain  Babcock  by  the  arm  and,  lead 
ing  him  to  the  grated  window,  pointed  to  the  figure 
sauntering  across  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the 
Goddess  of  Liberty  looming  on  the  Capitol  dome., 
Then  he  whispered : 

"  There  goes  John  Munson  Home." 


CHAPTER  XVi 

I   ESCAPE 

NOW  that  I  was  actually  out  of  prison  and  free  to 
proceed  whither  I  willed,  the  difficulties  of  the 
situation  began  to  present  themselves.  Where 
could  I  go  that  a  Southerner  was  sure  of  protection 
and  assistance?  I  had  the  names  Dennis  Darden  gave 
me  before  my  departure;  names  of  people  supposed  to 
be  sympathizers;  but  the  novelty  of  the  situation  was 
too  much  for  me  and  I  began  to  feel  like  the  guilty 
who  flee  when  no  man  pursueth.  Although  I  had  been 
a  resident  of  Washington  for  three  months,  I  had  kept 
strictly  indoors  and  was  not  in  the  least  familiar  with 
the  streets  and  the  people.  All  of  a  sudden  I  be 
thought  myself  of  the  green  insignia  on  my  arms.  I 
wrenched  them  from  my  blouse  and  tore  them  into 
bits,  tossing  the  fragments  into  the  Capitol  grounds. 
They  fell  in  a  green  shower  and  lay  scintillating  in 
the  reflections  from  the  gas  lamps  that  lined  the  thor 
oughfare.  I  fled  from  them  precipitately,  ever  fearful 
that  the  fat,  dark,  hospital  steward  would  come  saun 
tering  along  and  see  me  playing  his  part. 

Among  the  names  supplied  by  Darden  was  that  of 
a  woman  who  kept  a  fashionable  boarding  house.  I 
decided  to  call  on  her  first  and  after  considerable  diffi- 

185 


i86  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

culty  I  found  her  residence.  A  young  darky  answered 
the  bell. 

"  Yes  sah,  de  Missus  is  in,  but  I  don't  reckon  you 
can  see  her  jess  at  dis  hour.  You  name  sah,  if  you 
please  ?  " 

At  that  moment  the  lady  happened  to  come  down 
stairs  and  to  the  door  where  I  was  standing.  In  a  low 

voice  I  told  her  Dennis  Darden  had  sent  me  to  her, 

' 

but  before  I  could  proceed,  she  said  with  considerable 
excitement,  though  well  controlled: 

"  Never  heard  of  him !  Who  is  he  ?  You  must 
have  made  a  mistake,  young  man." 

I  was  heartbroken. 

"  George,"  she  said  presently,  turning  to  the  darky, 
"go  up  stairs  and  close  the  back  window.  There  is 
a  draught  in  the  hall."  The  servant  disappeared. 

"  Quick,  my  boy,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Yes,  I 
know  Dennis  Darden  well." 

She  drew  me  into  the  warm  hall  with  motherly 
tenderness.  "Do  you  want  money?  here  it  is,"  and 
she  pressed  me  to  take  it.  The  roll  of  bills  she  offered 
me  made  me  think  this  was  another  greenback  raid. 
"  I  don't  want  your  money,"  I  replied,"  I  have  enough 
for  all  my  wants ;  I  want  you  to  conceal  me  somewhere. 
Can  you  hide  me  for  a  day  or  two,  or  just  for  tonight  ? 
If  you  can  only  catch  on  to  my  situation  at  present, 
I  am  on  the  run." 

I  said  all  of  this  in  a  good  deal  of  a  hurry,  and  in 
just  as  much  of  a  hurry  she  said, 

"  Impossible, !  I  am  suspected  of  being  a  Southern 
sympathizer ;  this  house  is  watched  by  spies,  and  Colo- 


I  ESCAPE  187 

nel  Billy  Wood  at  the  Old  Capitol  will  have  his  detec 
tives  here  as  soon  as  he  finds  out  you  have  escaped. 
I  will  tell  you  where  to  go." 

She  gave  me  another  address.  The  servant  was 
returning  and  I  bowed  myself  out,  while  she  protested 
in  a  low  voice  that  she  had  never  heard  of  Dennis 
Da r den  and  did  not  want  to,  and  I  thought  I  heard 
the  word  tramp,  but  maybe  not. 

By  midnight  I  had  visited  four  "  Southern  sympa 
thizers  "  who  protested  hatred  of  everything  south 
of  the  line.  I  cannot  say  in  justice  that  I  blamed 
them  for  giving  me  the  cold  shoulder,  as  Washington 
was  full  of  detectives  and  spies  engaged  in  ferreting 
out  residents  who  were  suspected  of  treasonable  tend 
encies.  It  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  display  any  anti- 
Union  leanings  in  those  days. 

An  exception  to  my  general  turning  down  was  in 
the  case  of  Dennis's  old  mother  and  sister,  whom  I 
called  on  after  I  left  the  boarding  house  landlady,  but 
I  only  stopped  for  a  moment  to  tell  them  about  their 
son  and  brother,  for  I  knew  their's  would  be  one  of 
the  first  houses  to  be  searched.  They  welcomed  me 
and  would  have  had  me  stay  and  hide,  but  I  knew 
that  it  would  endanger  them,  and  I  moved  on. 

I  wandered  around  the  back  streets  in  a  sort  of 
panic,  ducking  behind  trees  and  sneaking  into  shadows 
every  time  a  pedestrian  or  horseman  came  into  view. 
I  thought  every  soldier  was  after  me,  as  the  roll  call 
was  sure  to  disclose  my  absence. 

The  last  address  in  my  possession  was  that  of  a 
sporting  man  of  the  name  of  Lunsford.  He  ran  a 


1 88  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

gilded  palace  of  chance  down  town,  and  his  place  was 
generally  filled  with  army  officers  with  a  penchant  for 
faro  and  roulette.  I  hesitated  about  going  there, 
because  of  its  popularity  among  the  Union  officers. 
Nevertheless,  about  midnight  I  decided  to  take  the 
gambler's  chance  myself,  and  entered  the  place  boldly. 
It  literally  swarmed  with  Federal  uniforms,  but  by 
.this  time  I  was  too  desperate  or  perhaps  too  indifferent 
to  care  much  what  happened.  I  called  Lunsford  aside 
when  he  was  pointed  out  to  me,  and  told  him  my  story, 
explaining  how  I  had  been  turned  down  four  times 
that  night. 

"  Serves  you  right,"  he  answered ;  "  you  should  have 
come  to  me  first.  Did  not  Dennis  tell  you  I  could  be 
depended  on?  Confound  you,  this  idiotic  delay  may 
cost  you  your  liberty." 

At  this  greeting  all  my  fears  left  me,  and  the  world 
seemed  to  be  mine,  especially  when  he  added  cheerfully, 
"  Better  get  some  grub  into  you,  and  prepare  to  light 
out  of  Washington  before  daybreak.  How  is  old  Den 
nis  ?  Does  he  want  anything  ?  "  With  that  he  hus 
tled  me  into  the  back  room  where  I  satisfied  myself 
at  the  guests'  table,  taking  care  of  a  meal  that  was 
by  far  the  best  and  largest  I  had  ever  eaten  since  my 
capture. 

At  the  conclusion  of  my  assault  on  the  viands,  Luns 
ford  called  in  his  manager,  told  him  to  run  the  place 
until  it  was  time  to  close  up,  and  together  we  set  out 
for  Georgetown.  It  added  speed  to  my  steps  when  he 
intimated  that  some  of  the  soldiers  in  his  place,  very 
probably,  were  men  sent  out  to  look  for  me,  though 


I  ESCAPE  189 

it  might  have  been  only  one  of  his  jokes.  I  wanted 
to  walk,  so  that  if  necessary  I  could  break  into  a 
sprint,  but  he  insisted  on  riding,  and  somewhere  he  got 
a  cab  and  we  drove  into  Georgetown  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  My  new-made  friend  took  me  to  a 
little  family  hotel  called  "The  White  House,"  kept 
by  a  Frenchman  named  Tony  Rodier,  and  instructed 
him  to  hide  me  until  I  could  be  safely  started  in  the 
direction  of  Loudoun  county.  Lunsford  thereupon 
bade  me  a  warm  good-bye,  and  after  offering  to  share 
his  roll  with  me  if  I  was  out  of  funds,  drove  back  to 
Washington. 

That  was  the  last  I  saw  of  the  brave  and  generous 
fellow,  but  I  wrote  to  him  after  the  war  expressing 
my  appreciation.  I  have  recently  learned  that  he  is 
still  living  in  Washington,  at  a  ripe  old  age. 

I  remained  most  of  the  time  in  a  room  in  the  attic, 
as  my  host  did  not  care  to  have  visible  a  guest  whose 
character  was  likely  to  be  questioned  at  any  moment. 
On  the  fourth  day  I  had  about  concluded  to  strike  out 
after  dark  and  make  my  way  back  to  the  Command 
as  best  I  could.  But  in  the  meantime  Madame  Ro 
dier  had  arranged  with  a  country  market  man  that  I 
was  to  leave  the  town  with  him,  passing  as  his  son ;  the 
idea  being  to  get  me  outside  of  the  picket  limits  and 
turn  me  loose  in  the  open  to  go  it  alone.  I  did  not 
realize  then  that  it  was  infinitely  harder  to  escape 
from  Washington  through  the  almost  countless  pick 
ets  than  to  get  out  of  the  Old  Capitol  prison.  Madame 
Rodier  told  the  countryman  that  it  would  be  a  pleasure 
for  her  to  annihilate  him  if  he  failed  in  his  mission. 


190  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Evidently  the  farmer  was  impressed,  for  he  displayed 
evident  signs  of  fear;  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  the 
hotel  man's  wife  had  to  supply  him  with  courage  in  the 
form  of  a  bottle  of  brandy.  The  effect  was  instan 
taneous  and  he  departed  for  the  rural  districts  in  fine 
feather. 

About  two  miles  outside  of  the  city  limits  the  last 
of  the  pickets  we  had  to  pass  held  us  up  and  wanted 
to  know  where  the  farmer  had  "  dug  up  "  the  boy, 
meaning  me.  An  argument  ensued,  but  the  farmer 
protested  stoutly  that  I  had  come  in  with  him,  and  that 
I  was  sleeping  among  the  vegetables  when  he  entered 
the  lines.  The  guard  looked  incredulous,  and  then  to 
try  and  trip  the  old  fellow,  asked  if  he  did  not  have 
something  to  drink.  My  "  father  "  insisted  that  he 
never  took  a  drink  in  his  life  and,  after  a  brief  parley, 
we  were  permitted  to  proceed.  When  we  came  to 
the  first  turn  in  the  road  where  we  were  hidden  from 
the  soldiers,  the  old  fellow  drew  out  his  bottle  and 
took  a  long  pull  at  the  contents,  saying  to  me,  "  Sonny, 
if  you  was  as  badly  scared  just  now  as  I  am  you'd  be 
mighty  glad  to  take  a  swig  out  of  that  bottle,  young 
as  you  is." 

For  several  days  and  nights  after  the  garden-truck 
man  set  me  down,  several  miles  outside  of  Georgetown, 
I  was  kept  busy  dodging  pickets  and  straggling  troop 
ers,  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  strangers  and  side 
stepping  awkward  situations,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
extreme  difficulty  of  getting  enough  to  eat.  But  I 
gradually  made  my  way  north-westward,  not  far  from 
the  Potomac  at  any  time,  and  at  length  I  began  to  feel 


I  ESCAPE  191 

that  my  prospect  for  reaching  the  stamping  ground 
of  the  Rangers  was  improving. 

Just  about  sunset  on  the  seventh  day  I  was  set  down 
from  a  stage  coach  in  the  little  towns  of  Poolesville,  in 
Montgomery  county,  Maryland,  pretty  tired,  but  hope 
ful,  for  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Blue  Ridge 
Mountains  that  afternoon  and  made  up  my  mind  to 
reach  their  friendly  shelter  or  know  why.  I  was  look 
ing  rather  seedy  for  my  clothes  had  seen  hard  usage 
of  late  and  they  were  not  new  when  I  got  them.  I 
found  a  soldier  in  Poolesville  who  was  doing  cavalry 
duty  in  the  neighborhood.  He  was  a  Federal  trooper 
and  seemed  to  be  a  decent  sort  of  fellow.  I  inquired 
of  him  the  way  to  a  certain  house  near  the  Potomac 
river,  a  house  occupied  by  a  "  friend  "  to  whom  I  had 
been  directed.  He  advised  me  to  keep  away  from  the 
river,  saying  the  Federal  pickets  might  mistake  me 
for  a  rebel  and  shoot  me.  I  insisted  on  going,  how 
ever,  and  he  offered  to  let  me  walk  beside  his  horse 
while  he  rode  out  into  the  country,  promising  to  start 
me  right  when  we  got  to  a  certain  fork  in  the  road. 

It  was  a  bitter  cold  night  and  the  patches  of  snow 
lay  white  and  shimmering  along  the  fields  on  the  high 
way.  Before  us,  covered  with  frost  and  ice,  was  the 
winding  road,  sometimes  in  the  open  white  light  of 
the  moon,  and  at  other  times  heavy  with  the  shadows 
of  trees.  My  guide  was  rather  a  talkative  person 
and  under  the  influence  of  his  chatting  I  began  to 
warm  up  to  the  trip. 

Once  when  we  were  passing  along  a  frozen  stretch 
of  the  road  I  reached  out  and  grabbed  a  pistol  holster 


i92  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

from  the  trooper's  saddle,  in  an  effort  to  support  my 
self.  The  instant  my  fingers  touched  the  leather  a 
thought  flashed  through  my  mind.  Why  not  capture 
him?  Never  had  a  man  such  a  chance  as  this.  He 
had  everything  that  I  lacked ;  a  good  horse,  a  carbine, 
two  pistols,  and  a  warm  coat.  I  withdrew  my  hand 
from  the  holster  and  trudged  along.  The  idea  began 
to  appeal  to  me.  I  recalled  the  time  when  my  Cap 
tain,  Billy  Smith,  of  Mosby's  Command,  while  being 
led  off  captive  by  the  enemy,  pulled  his  captor  down 
by  the  wrist,  dealt  him  a  blow  in  the  face,  dragged  him 
to  the  ground;  how  he  took  his  pistols,  mounted  into 
the  empty  saddle,  and  galloped  back  to  the  Command, 
cheering  his  own  prowess. 

It  would  be  a  very  simple  matter  to  haul  that  Fed 
eral  trooper  to  the  earth,  and  the  idea  that  the  Colonel 
would  approve  of  it  if  I  told  him  of  it,  was  a  considera 
tion  not  to  be  overlooked.  I  did  not  want  to  execute 
the  maneuver  in  a  hasty  and  bungling  manner,  so  I 
set  about  studying  the  conditions  more  closely.  I  recol 
lect  how,  in  my  conversation,  I  made  many  gestures, 
all  of  which  were  calculated  to  bring  my  hands  more 
closely  in  touch  with  the  rider's  boots,  his  revolver 
holsters,  his  stirrup,  and  such  other  important  things 
as  were  likely  to  come  in  for  a  share  in  the  mixup. 
Once  I  put  my  hand  over  on  the  stirrup  casually,  just 
to  see  how  far  his  foot  went  into  the  slot.  At  that 
particular  moment  the  trooper  had  slipped  his  boot 
almost  out  of  the  stirrup  and  I  could  have  then  and 
there  carried  out  my  plan  with  little  risk  to  myself. 
I  glanced  up  in  his  face  just  to  see  if  there  could  be 


I  ESCAPE  193 

any  possible  suspicion  in  his  eyes,  intending  to  raid 
him  when  we  struck  the  shadow  of  the  next  tree.  Just 
then  he  spoke. 

"  If  you  are  tired,  comrade,  I  will  walk  and  let  you 
ride  a  spell.  I  guess  it  must  be  pretty  hard  jogging 
along  these  frozen  roads." 

Here  I  was  contemplating  this  fellow's  capture,  and 
humiliation,  while  he  was  occupied  with  thoughts  for 
my  comfort.  It  did  not  take  me  long  to  assure  him 
of  my  gratitude  and,  when  we  separated  a  little  farther 
up  the  road  and  I  shook  his  hand,  I  hoped  that  the 
genuine  warmth  with  which  I  grasped  it  might  com 
pensate  for  my  unbrotherly  cogitations  earlier  in  the 
night.  I  stood  there  alone,  watching  him  melt  into 
the  landscape,  and  the  sane  thought  presented  itself 
to  me  that  the  river  was  frozen  over,  making  a  horse 
unnecessary,  and  a  prisoner  would  have  been  an  awful 
handicap  to  me.  There  is  no  fool  like  a  fool  looking 
for  a  fight. 

I  found  my  way  to  the  house  I  was  in  search  of 
and  spent  that  night  and  the  next  day  under  a  dry 
and  hospitable  roof,  changing  my  clothes  for  warmer 
garments.  When  I  finally  went  down  to  the  river's 
bank,  under  cover  of  darkness,  I  heard  voices  and 
hid  behind  a  pile  of  rocks.  A  trio  of  Federal  soldiers 
passed  so  near  me  that  I  heard  their  voices.  The 
amusing  part  of  it  was  that  they  were  holding  an  ani 
mated  conversation  about  Mosby  and  his  captivating 
tactics.  I  gathered  from  what  I  overheard  that  the 
Command  had  been  raising  no  end  of  trouble  during 
my  absence. 


194  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

After  the  Yankees  passed  I  made  for  the  river 
rapidly,  and  found  it  completely  frozen  over,  as  had 
been  reported.  A  bad  storm  was  blowing  up,  how 
ever,  and  I  could  hear  the  ice  crackling  and  humming 
ominously.  The  snow  began  to  lose  its  crispness  and 
I  knew  that  a  thaw  was  about  to  set  in.  This  gave 
me  another  reason,  an  excellent  one,  for  getting  across 
to  the  soil  of  Virginia,  and  I  made  tracks  over  the 
frozen  bosom  of  the  old  Potomac,  like  a  timber  wolf 
loping  back  home.  All  the  way  I  could  hear  the  ice 
sheet  humming  and  warping  under  my  feet.  A  blind 
ing  wind  from  the  southeast  was  eating  into  the  ice 
hummocks,  and  I  felt  the  moisture  coming  through  my 
boots.  The  thaw  was  on  without  a  doubt.  At  every 
few  steps  my  feet  slipped  on  the  rough  lumps  and  I 
fell  sprawling  on  my  face,  only  to  lie  quiet  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  gaze  up  and  down  the  river  and  try  to  find 
out  if  I  was  discovered  by  the  pickets  stationed  along 
its  banks.  I  could  see  their  fires  for  miles  both  ways, 
and  my  overwrought  nerves  made  the  noise  of  each 
stumble  and  fall  appear  to  me  like  explosions  of  a 
mine.  I  could  almost  imagine  the  guards  could  hear 
me  grunt  and  groan.  The  ice  broke  up  and  the  river 
opened  two  hours  after  I  crossed. 

I  landed  a  few  miles  below  Leesburg  and  tramped 
into  that  town  about  ten  o'clock  at  night.  On  the 
way  I  heard  the  sound  of  horses,  and  dropped  down 
behind  a  clump  of  bushes  to  hide.  They  proved  to 
be  a  raiding  party  of  Yankees  returning  from  our 
country  to  their  camp  in  Fairfax.  I  spent  the  night 
at  a  friend's  house  in  Leesburg  and  another  raiding 


I  ESCAPE  195 

party  came  into  town  during  the  night  and  searched 
the  house.  I  began  to  think  getting  out  of  prison  was 
easy  compared  with  dodging  raiders.  The  next  day 
I  walked  out  to  West  Aldrich's  home,  a  few  miles 
from  town,  and  he  gave  me  a  lift  as  far  as  Upperville, 
the  town  near  which  I  had  been  captured  nearly  three 
months  before,  and  where  a  meeting  of  the  Command 
was  being  held  when  I  reached  there. 

I  walked  in  on  my  old  comrades  like  a  specter,  for 
some  of  them  had  heard  that  I  had  died  in  prison  of 
smallpox.  I  had  much  to  tell  them  of  the  boys  I  had 
left  behind  and  much  to  listen  to  about  the  adventures 
and  experiences  of  those  that  were  safe.  The  burden 
of  my  advice  was,  "  Don't  get  caught,  for  it  is  hard 
to  get  back." 

Colonel  Mosby  had  not  yet  returned  to  the  Com 
mand  from  his  severe  wound  received  late  in  De 
cember  at  Lake's  house  and,  as  the  men  were  not 
particularly  busy  "  annoying  the  enemy,"  I  was  given 
an  indefinite  leave  of  absence  and  went  home  to  Rich 
mond. 

My  first  questions  were,  when  I  reached  Upperville, 
about  my  horses,  especially  of  the  mare  who  got  me 
captured  by  refusing  to  take  the  stiff  stone  wall.  Un 
til  then  I  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  her. 
I  learned  that  my  old  comrade,  Emory  Pitts,  had  taken 
care  of  all  my  animals  in  my  absence  and,  when  I 
went  into  the  stable  where  they  were  munching  their 
oats,  two  of  them,  old  "  Champ  "  and  the  mare  "  An 
nie,"  stopped  eating  and  whinnied  their  recognition 
and  welcome.  Maybe  it  was  silly  and  boyish,  but  I 


196  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

could  not  help  it;  I  hugged  both  of  them  and  cried 
just  a  little  bit. 

When  at  home  in  Richmond,  I  walked  in  on  my 
mother,  who  had  also  heard  that  sickness  had  carried 
me  away  in  a  northern  prison,  there  was  a  convulsive 
reunion.  When  my  father  came  in  that  evening  and 
asked  the  threadbare  question,  "  Heard  anything  more 
about  John  ?  "  the  fact  that  I  was  hiding  behind  the 
door  did  not  deceive  him  as  to  the  meaning  of  the 
expression  on  my  mother's  face. 

Well,  somehow  or  other  I  got  out  from  behind 
the  door  and  fell  into  my  father's  arms  like  a  helpless 
child,  and  for  a  while  there  was  a  triple  crying  and 
hugging  and  laughing.  Truly  it  was  worth  a  short 
term  in  prison  to  be  part  of  such  a  family  reunion. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  know  what  happened  in  the 
Old  Capitol  prison  after  my  departure.  Within  half 
an  hour  following  my  exit,  the  superintendent  and  his 
guard  made  their  nightly  rounds  and  called  the  roll. 
It  was  then  discovered  I  was  missing.  Search  was 
made  in  every  conceivable  spot,  even  up  the  chimney 
and  in  the  sewer.  Careful  investigations  were  re 
sorted  to  and  after  several  days  it  was  discovered  that 
the  bounty  jumper  had  sold  me  his  blue  blouse.  As  a 
punishment  he  was  sent  to  the  Dry  Tortugas.  All 
the  rest  of  the  prisoners  were  handcuffed  in  pairs  and 
sent  up  to  Fort  Warren  in  Boston  Harbor,  where  they 
were  kept  till  the  summer  of  1865. 

I  should  have  mentioned  before  that  Mosby's  men 
were  not  exchanged  during  the  latter  part  of  the  war, 
and  the  only  way  to  get  home  was  to  go  home.  I 


I  ESCAPE  197 

believe  now,  after  forty  years  have  passed,  that  the 
life  of  the  old  Partisan  Command  was  what  lured  me 
back  and  made  me  take  the  chances  one  must  take  for 
liberty.  I  was  fully  repaid  when,  amid  the  stirring 
scenes  of  my  soldier  life,  I  heard  again  the  old  fa 
miliar  order : 

"  Mount  your  horse,  Munson,  and  come  along  with 


CHAPTER  XVI 

TRYING  FOR  BIG  GAME 

ABOUT  the  middle  of  August,  1864,  I  don't  recall 
just  the  date,  but  I  believe  it  was  the  I5th,  Ma-, 
jor  "  Dolly  "  Richards's  squad  killed  Lieutenant 
Walker  of  the  First  United  States  Cavalry.  I  have 
referred  to  it  previously.  In  one  of  Walker's  pockets 
the  boys  found  a  miniature  likeness  of  his  bride,  with 
her  name  and  the  date  of  her  marriage  inscribed  on  it. 
Watkins  of  our  Command  gave  it  to  a  lady  nearby, 
and  asked  her  to  see  that  it  was  sent  through  the  lines, 
in  safety,  to  that  waiting  bride.  I  hope  she  got  it. 
I  don't  like  to  think  of  the  incident. 

Walker's  horse  was  a  splendid  animal,  and  when 
his  master  was  killed  the  poor,  frightened  creature 
dashed  away  toward  the  camps.  Willie  Martin  chased 
him,  but  finding  he  could  not  overtake  him,  yelled  to 
a  Yankee  soldier  standing  in  the  way  to  catch  and 
hold  him,  which  he  did  and,  when  Martin  rode  up,  he 
told  the  man  to  get  on  the  horse  and  "  come  along." 
It  looked  like  a  rather  ungrateful  way  of  paying  him 
for  doing  a  favor.  The  boys  presented  the  horse  to 
Major  Richards.  One  of  the  men  went  through  Walk 
er's  pockets  and  got  five  hundred  dollars  in  green 
backs. 

Lieutenant  Alfred  Glasscock  took  fifteen  men  to  the 

198 


TRYING  FOR  BIG  GAME  199 

Valley  about  this  time  to  annoy  Sheridan.  He  was 
raiding  near  Kernstown  with  his  little  squad  of  fifteen 
men  when  he  saw  a  company  of  cavalry  approaching. 
His  men  wore  rubber  ponchos  to  keep  off  the  rain. 
He  could  not  distinguish  the  number  of  the  enemy  ap 
proaching,  owing  to  a  bend  in  the  road,  but  told  his 
men  it  was  no  time  to  run  for,  if  there  were  too  many 
of  them,  he  would  pass  on  by  and  trust  to  luck  not  to 
be  discovered,  but  if  there  were  not  too  many  he 
would  attack  them  and  demand  their  surrender.  He 
said: 

"  Now,  boys,  I  am  going  to  show  you  how  to  cap 
ture  Yankees  in  the  regular  Mosby  style." 

As  the  commands  approached  each  other,  the  Yan 
kee  said  to  Glasscock :  "  Hello,  boys,  I  thought  you 
were  rebs."  Glasscock  smilingly  told  him  not  to  be 
worried  on  that  account,  and  as  he  rode  on  past  the 
company  his  fifteen  men  scattered  along  the  line  from 
front  to  rear  and,  'at  a  signal  from  Glasscock,  every 
man  presented  a  cocked  pistol.  The  entire  crowd  sur 
rendered,  and  not  a  shot  was  fired.  We  captured 
thirty  men  and  their  horses,  and  no  record  of  their 
disappearance  was  left  behind.  It  may  have  reached 
Sheridan's  ears  and  "  annoyed  "  him,  or  he  may  have 
heard  that  his  men  deserted  in  a  body,  or  that  the 
ghosts  had  spirited  them  away;  but,  whatever  report 
of  the  disappearance  of  one  of  his  cavalry  companies 
was  made  to  him,  if  any  was,  could  not  have  added 
much  to  his  cheerfulness. 

Mosby  had  such  confidence  in  the  ability  of  his  offi 
cers  that  he  permitted  them  frequently  to  lay  out  their 


200  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

own  work,  or  rather  the  details  of  it.  He  would  send 
an  officer  to  the  Valley,  for  instance,  and  tell  him  to 
find  something  to  do  around  Winchester,  while  another 
one  would  be  told  to  go  with  a  few  men  to  the  neigh 
borhood  of  Charlestown  or  some  other  point.  Hardly 
a  day  passed  from  the  first  of  August,  1864,  till  mid 
winter,  that  some  of  our  men  were  not  troubling 
Sheridan.  Some  time  toward  the  middle  or  last  of 
August,  Major  Richards  tried  to  capture  Sheridan, 
and  but  for  a  simple  accident,  it  might  have  been  ac 
complished.  The  game  was  at  least  worth  the  candle. 

He  took  a  dozen  of  company  B  and  crept  stealthily 
toward  the  sleeping  army,  encountering  a  picket  who 
was  captured  silently.  He  then  marched  into  the 
camp  of  the  Nineteenth  New  York,  but  the  soldiers 
were  scattered  so  thickly  on  the  ground  that  he  could 
not  ride  through  them.  He  had  to  retrace  his  steps 
and  get  in  some  other  way.  In  passing  a  sentinel, 
Willie  Martin,  in  a  spirit  of  fun,  spoke  to  him  in  a 
commanding  voice,  and  told  him  to  hold  his  gun 
properly,  saying :  '"  That  is  no  way  for  a  soldier  to 
stand  on  duty."  The  man  at  once  assumed  a  soldierly 
position  and  our  boys  had  a  quiet  laugh  at  his  expense. 

Wherever  Richards  turned  the  sleeping  soldiers  were 
so  thick  he  could  make  no  progress  among  them,  nor 
could  he  get  the  information  he  wanted  about  the 
location  of  headquarters,  even  though  he  woke  some 
of  the  men  to  ask  them.  He  turned  to  the  pike  once 
more,  hoping  to  get  from  some  of  the  men  moving, 
the  location  of  General  Sheridan.  He  captured  a  man 
and  took  him  along,  hoping  to  extract  something  val- 


2  w 

£§  . 

<  z 


_|C/> 
OO   O>  O   >-(   N 


^ 


202  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

vacant  place  that  seemed  never  to  be  filled.  There 
were  men  and  boys  among  us  who  had  become  so 
prominent  by  their  individual  bravery  that  when  they 
left  us  we  did  not  know  who  to  stand  up  in  their  gaps, 
and  so  we  left  the  gaps  open.  .Willie  Martin  was  one 
of  them. 

In  the  fight  at  Mount  Zion  Church  a  little  more 
than  a  month  previously,  this  boy  had  charged  up 
among  the  Second  Massachusetts  men,  and  got  so 
closely  wedged  among  them  that  they  clubbed  him 
into  insensibility  with  their  carbines,  as  he  was  too 
close  to  them  to  be  shot  with  safety  to  themselves. 
Company  E  was  organized  on  July  28,  1864,  and 
Willie  Martin  was  named  by  Mosby  as  its  second 
lieutenant,  an  appointment,  like  all  the  rest  he  made, 
for  gallantry.  Three  weeks  later  with  his  two  little 
modest  strips  on  his  collar,  the  insignia  of  the  promo 
tion  he  was  so  proud  of  and  which  he  so  justly  de 
served,  they  laid  him  to  rest  forever. 

In  May,  1864,  Richards,  with  fifteen  men,  crossed 
the  Shenandoah  river  at  Berry's  Ferry  to  find  out 
what  was  "  doing."  We  struck  the  Valley  pike  near 
Newtown  early  in  the  morning  and  picked  up  quite 
a  number  of  stragglers  during  the  day.  Late  in  the 
evening  he  sent  the  prisoners  back,  and  taking  ten 
men,  went  into  Newtown  to  get  information. 

At  first  the  people  would  not  believe  we  were  Con 
federates,  but  we  at  last  convinced  them,  and  found 
there  were  no  Federal  troops  at  2  o'clock  P.  M.  on  that 
day.  Richards  determined  to  raid  Winchester.  It 
commenced  to  rain  about  night  and  the  darkness  was 


TRYING  FOR  BIG  GAME  203 

very  dense.  We  were  riding  in  single  file  on  the 
side  of  the  pike. 

On  the  old  Kernstown  battle-field  we  heard  the 
enemy  coming  up  the  pike.  Richards  immediately 
halted  his  men  and  gave  orders  for  no  one  to  say 
anything,  as  he  would  do  the  talking,  saying  that,  if 
it  was  a  small  detachment,  he  would  try  and  capture 
them,  and  if  it  was  a  large  body  we  would  pass  on. 

We  again  started  down  the  road,  and  after  going  a 
short  distance  we  were  halted  by  the  challenge :  "  Who 
comes  there  ? "  Richards  answered,  "  First  New 
York,"  as  he  knew  that  it  was  with  Sigel,  for  we 
had  captured  some  men  from  it  that  day.  They  an 
swered  : 

"  All  right,  we  are  the  Twenty-first  boys,  come  on 
advance  guard  of  the  regiment  guarding  wagon 
trains." 

The  officer  in  command  of  the  detachment  asked 
where  we  were  going,  and  Richards  replied: 

"  Couriers  on  the  way  to  Martinsburg  to  telegraph 
that  Sigel  had  whipped  the  rebels  and  gone  on  up 
the  Valley." 

The  Twenty-first  gave  three  cheers,  and  Richards 
told  them  to  hold  fast  as  his  business  was  urgent,  and 
we  had  to  go  on.  As  he  reached  the  rear  of  the  de 
tachment  he  stopped,  and  the  men  turned  on  the  Yan 
kees  and  demanded  their  surrender.  They  were  in 
the  act  of  surrendering  when  some  one  fired  a  shot. 
I  think  that  one  of  our  boy's  nerves  gave  way  and 
he  fired.  The  fight  then  became  a  melee,  both  sides 
hallooing  and  cursing.  The  regiment  that  was  guard- 


204  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

ing  the  train  charged  on  us  and  we  left.     Charley 
Dear  was  shot  through  the  side. 

Speaking  of  Charley  Dear,  the  following  contribu 
tion  from  him  will  prove  interesting,  I  am  certain.  I 
offer  it  entire,  and  take  this  opportunity  to  thank  him 
for  it. 

On  January  30,  1865,  Major  Richards  started  from 
Bloomfield,  with  thirty  men,  to  raid  the  Baltimore  & 
Ohio  Railroad.  We  reached  the  railroad  running 
from  Harper's  Ferry  to  Winchester  about  midnight, 
and  found  that  road  so  heavily  guarded  by  infantry, 
and  patrolled  by  cavalry  every  half  hour,  that  we  ' 
could  not  accomplish  anything. 

Richards  determined  not  to  be  outdone,  and  sent 
part  of  his  men  off  with  John  Russell,  and  kept  about 
fifteen  men  with  him.  He  endeavored  again  to  cross 
the  railroad  but  failed,  and  then  called  Jim  Wiltshire 
and  me  to  him,  and  told  us  to  go  and  bring  him  a 
prisoner,  and  be  certain  to  bring  one  before  we  re 
turned. 

The  weather  was  cold  and  the  snow  was  on  the 
ground ;  the  moon  was  shining  bright.  Wiltshire  and 
I  moved  quietly  up  the  railroad  and  soon  met  two  men 
who  asked  us  where  we  were  going.  We  answered, 
"  The  Twelfth  Pennsylvania,  sent  out  to  see  what  had 
become  of  you  fellows,  as  you  had  stayed  beyond 
your  time."  We  were  then  right  up  to  them,  and 
covered  them  with  our  pistols,  and  told  them  to  keep 
quiet  and  go  with  us,  which  they  did.  We  took  them 
to  Major  Richards,  who  after  a  talk  with  them  of  a 
few  minutes,  called  Wiltshire  and  me  to  him,  and  told 


TRYING  FOR  BIG  GAME  205 

us  to  take  the  prisoners  aside,  separate  them  and  de 
mand  the  countersign,  which  we  did,  with  a  six- 
shooter  at  their  heads.  They  gave  it  to  us  but,  when 
we  compared  notes,  the  word  did  not  come  up  right; 
we  tried  it  again,  with  the  pistols  cocked  this  time, 
and  pressed  against  their  heads,  but  with  no  idea  of 
shooting  them.  It  was  very  persuasive  this  time,  and 
when  we  again  compared  notes  they  had  agreed,  as 
they  had  given  us  the  same  word:  the  countersign 
was  "  Dry." 

Charley  Wiltshire,  Will  Shepard,  Jim  Wiltshire  and 
I  were  sent  down  the  railroad  to  see  if  the  word  would 
work,  which  it  did,  and  the  boys  brought  in  four 
more  prisoners. 

After  this  it  was  clear  sailing.  After  talking  with 
the  prisoners  Richards  determined  to  pay  our  respects 
to  the  guard-house  of  the  Twelfth  Pennsylvania  Cav 
alry.  The  reason  we  went  to  the  guard-house  was  we 
heard  there  was  a  prisoner  there,  Charley  Aisquith, 
who  was  from  the  Second  Virginia  Infantry. 

Richards  sent  back  the  prisoners  and  kept  with  him 
nine  men.  As  we  approached  the  camp  all  was  quiet ; 
they  little  dreaming  that  the  Mosby  men  were  there. 
The  interior  guard  halted  us  and  Charley  Wiltshire 
gave  them,  "  Patrol,"  and  riding  up  to  him,  asked 
him  if  he  wanted  the  countersign.  He  said  "  No." 

Wiltshire  shoved  a  pistol  in  his  face  and  told  him 
to  keep  quiet  and,  putting  him  behind  one  of  the  men, 
we  rode  quietly  through  the  camp  to  the  guard  house, 
making  the  prisoner  show  us  where  the  guard  house 
was,  with  a  man  riding  beside  him  with  a  pistol  at 


206  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

his  head  telling  him  to  remain  quiet.  The  camp  was 
laid  out  in  streets,  with  stables  on  one  side,  where  we 
could  see  the  fine  horses;  the  front  of  it  was  open, 
sentinels  walking  their  beat  in  front;  cabins  on  the 
other  side  covered  with  canvas;  all  asleep. 

We  rode  straight  to  the  guard  house  and,  as  we 
arrived  there,  a  soldier  had  just  come  out  to  replenish 
the  fire  in  front  of  the  guard  tent.  Charley  Wiltshire 
jumped  off  his  horse  and  captured  him  and  Jim  Wilt 
shire  also  dismounted  to  see  if  the  Charlestown  boy 
was  in  there.  Jim  Wiltshire  walked  to  the  door  of  the 
tent,  pulled  up  the  flap  and  he  and  I  looked  in  to  see 
if  Aisquith  was  inside.  He  was  not.  If  he  had  been 
Jim  Wiltshire  was  going  in  after  him.  The  soldiers 
were  lying  side  by  side,  asleep,  little  thinking  that 
two  of  Mosby's  men  were  looking  in  upon  them. 

Joe  Bryan  and  Joe  Gibson  were  also  dismounted, 
holding  their  horses,  and  the  rest  of  the  boys  com 
menced  cutting  loose  the  horses  around  the  guard  tent, 
ready  to  take  a  hand  in  the  fray.  Bartlett  Boiling, 
seeing  a  sentinel  standing  near  looking  on,  rode  up  to 
him  and  demanded  his  surrender.  The  soldier  replied 
with  a  shot,  and  that  broke  up  the  fun. 

We  did  not  go  out  as  quietly  as  we  went  in;  the 
boys  made  it  lively  for  them,  giving  the  Mosby  yell 
as  we  rode  out,  firing  down  through  the  tops  of  cabins, 
as  they  were  covered  with  canvas.  We  were  going 
out  at  a  dead  run  and  Hearn  was  riding  a  very  fine 
race  mare,  and  his  bit  broke.  She  went  through  the 
camp  fairly  flying,  and  he  called  to  Major  Richards, 
"  For  God's  sake  catch  my  mare,  or  I'll  go  to  hell." 


TRYING  FOR  BIG  GAME  207 

Richards  replied, 

"  I  have  been  expecting  you  to  travel  that  road  for 
some  time." 

We  got  out  safely  with  eight  horses  and,  as  we  came 
through  Charlestown,  the  enemy  opened  a  fusillade  on 
us  from  both  sides  of  the  street,  from  the  old  court 
house  and  the  jail.  It  did  no  harm. 

We  raised  pandemonium  in  the  camp,  as  bugles 
were  blowing  and  men  shooting  in  every  direction.  I 
think  Reno  did  not  sleep  so  quietly  after  that. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    SUTLER 

MOSBY'S  men  had  a  decided  weakness  for 
Yankee  sutlers,  and  though  few  of  these  capi 
talists  were  captured  during  the  latter  part  of 
the  war,  the  traditions  of  the  Command  about  them 
were  so  fascinating,  when  related  by  the  older  mem 
bers,  that  it  kept  all  the  men  constantly  on  the  lookout 
for  them. 

I  remember  an  occasion  once,  in  October,  1864, 
when  we  saw  a  covered  wagon  going  down  the  pike 
in  the  Valley,  guarded  by  a  few  men  only.  When 
the  men  caught  sight  of  it  there  was  a  cry  of  joy  from 
a  hundred  throats. 

"A  sutler  at  last!" 

And  away  a  lot  of  us  dashed  for  it,  though  a  big 
force  of  the  enemy  was  in  sight.  We  overtook  it  and 
only  succeeded  in  getting  the  driver  to  stop  his  team 
when  we  began  firing  into  him.  He  was  so  near  his 
men  he  thought  he  could  reach  them.  When  we  final 
ly  hauled  him  up  we  found,  instead  of  a  sutler,  that 
the  wagon  contained  only  a  General  (Duffie)  and  two 
other  officers.  Some  of  the  men  who  did  not  go  to 
church  regularly  gave  way  to  a  species  of  profanity. 
It  was  an  awful  disappointment.  We  did  not  need 
any  Generals,  but  we  wanted  good  things,  such  as  the 

208 


THE  SUTLER  209 

sutler's  wagon  always  carried,  and  we  wanted  them 
badly. 

While  the  boys  were  chasing  the  wagon  they  were 
telling  each  other  what  they  intended  choosing  when 
they  got  into  the  goods.  One  boy  said  to  another, 
"  If  you  get  hold  of  a  pair  of  number  seven  high  boots, 
save  'em  for  me,  and  I'll  give  you  some  of  the  flannel 
shirts  I  get,  and  don't  forget  to  save  me  some  figs 
and  candy,  and  some  cigars."  When  that  boy  saw 
General  Duffie  he  almost  cried. 

In  the  early  months  of  the  Command's  history  the 
capture  of  sutlers  was  as  common  as  the  capture  of 
soldiers.  They  seemed  to  swarm  in  Fairfax  county, 
and  they  traveled  around  without  guards  for,  up  to 
the  time  Mosby  went  into  the  country,  there  had  been 
no  necessity  for  protection.  They  were  safe  to  go 
where  they  chose.  On  nearly  all  the  early  raids  a 
sutler  would  be  numbered  among  the  spoils,  and  the 
average  army  sutler  was  not  to  be  despised.  He  was 
a  traveling  retail  general  store,  with  a  saloon  attach 
ment,  sometimes,  and  sometimes  a  bakery  and  con 
fectionery  to  boot.  There  was  never  any  effort  to 
divide  his  goods  equally  among  the  captors :  each  man 
pitched  in  and  took  what  pleased  his  fancy,  and  what 
ever  he  took  was  his  own.  The  men  frequently  ex 
changed  with  each  other  after  the  raid,  things  that 
each  did  not  want,  for  others  they  did  want. 

I  recollect  we  raided  some  sutlers  one  night,  and  the 
supply  of  stuff  they  had  was  simply  bewildering.  It 
was  in  the  early  autumn  of  1863,  September  i6th,  and 
they  were  located  near  Warrenton.  I  do  not  know 


210  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

how  many  of  them  were  interested  in  the  outfit,  but 
there  was  a  small  building  filled  with  goods,  and  there 
were  several  wagon  loads  outside.  These  wagons  were 
standing  in  front  of  the  house,  and  the  horses  were 
haltered  to  the  wagon  tongues.  I  dismounted  and 
climbed  into  the  back  of  one  wagon,  and  found  it 
loaded  two-thirds  of  the  way  up  to  the  roof  of  the 
cover.  A  large  buffalo  robe  was  spread  over  the, 
goods  and  two  men  were  lying  asleep  on  it.  They 
had  been  playing  cards  by  candle  light,  for  the  unlit 
candle  in  their  candle-stick  and  a  deck  of  cards,  were 
lying  between  the  men  on  the  robe. 

I  woke  one  of  them  out  of  a  sound  sleep  and  told 
him  Mosby's  men  were  all  around  him,  and  I  wanted 
his  pocket-book  before  I  went  any  further.  He 
cursed  me  and  told  me  to  "  clear  out "  as  he  was  tired 
of  being  held  up  by  a  lot  of  camp  bums  calling  them 
selves  Mosby's  men.  I  tried  to  convince  him  I  was 
in  earnest,  but  I  gathered  from  his  growing  warmth 
that  his  own  men  had  been  trying  in  the  past  to  rob 
him,  and  he  proposed  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  Fearing  he 
might  get  up  suddenly  and  knock  me  out  of  the  wagon 
(he  was  lying  down  all  this  time),  I  slipped  my  pis 
tol  out  carefuly  and  slid  its  cold  barrel  along  his 
upper  lip  and  held  it  there.  The  change  was  instan 
taneous.  He  wilted  and  began  handing  out  his  val 
uables,  and  when  he  had  given  me  everything  detach 
able  which  he  had,  I  turned  him  out  and  told  him  to 
sprint  for  his  life.  As  I  did  not  care  to  open  and 
look  into  his  big  boxes  and  packages,  I  secured  the 
robe  and  fastened  it  to  my  saddle  and  went  into  the 


THE  SUTLER  211 

house  where  our  men  were  plundering.  I  had  never 
seen  quite  as  interesting  a  collection  of  sutler's  goods 
before.  These  fellows  actually  had  everything  we 
could  possibly  have  wanted,  and  I  never  saw  such  a 
busy  lot  of  men  as  ours.  It  was  a  regular  bargain 
counter  crowd,  scrambling  and  surging  and  crowding 
to  get  the  best  of  everything.  The  men  would  eat  and 
drink  a  little  of  everything  that  came  within  their 
grasp.  Think  of  a  mixture  in  a  human  stomach  of 
sardines  and  raisins,  cakes  and  claret  wine,  cheese,  figs, 
beer,  chocolates,  pickled  onions,  champagne,  oysters, 
more  cheese,  jelly,  and  Hostetter's  Bitters  —  but  where 
would  I  ever  stop  if  I  tried  to  mention  everything? 
Well,  this  is  just  about  the  collection  most  of  the 
men  consumed  and  the  order  of  its  consumption. 
When  every  man  had  filled  a  big  sack  with  useful 
things,  and  his  stomach  with  what  he  was  pleased  to 
think  "  nice  things,"  we  set  fire  to  the  building  and 
wagons  and  started  away. 

One  man,  Sewell  Williams,  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
bewildering  variety,  was  so  dazzled  that  he  only  filled 
his  sack  with  cigars  and  playing  cards,  and  the  strange 
part  of  it  was  that  he  neither  smoked  nor  played  cards. 
As  soon  as  we  started  off  every  man  went  to  Williams 
and  got  one  or  more  cigars  and  began  to  smoke  up, 
whether  he  had  ever  smoked  before  or  not.  The  result 
was  that  smoking,  and  the  outraging  of  the  Guerrilla 
stomachs  caused  by  the  fluids  and  solids  recently  intro 
duced  into  them,  brought  on  an  illness  which  extended 
down  the  entire  line,  and  Mosby's  Command  never  ap 
peared  so  abjectly  miserable  and  helpless  in  all  its 


212  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

career.  One  good  healthy  Yankee  could  have  taken 
them  all  that  night,  and  if  he  had  promised  to  cure 
them  of  violent  sick  stomach  they  would  all  have  been 
glad  to  go. 

Among  the  personal  property  of  the  sutler  who 
yielded  up  his  all  at  my  armed  request,  was  a  big 
pocket-book  containing  his  accounts  and  papers.  When 
it  first  fell  into  my  hands  I  fancied  I  had  the  fellow's 
roll  and  I  hastened  to  investigate  it  only  to  find  papers. 
Among  them  were  a  lot  of  requisitions  from  army  offi 
cers  for  supplies  and  delicacies  which  he  had  filled  in 
Baltimore,  and  was  delivering  when  we  found  him. 
The  sutlers  had  printed  blanks  which  the  officers 
would  fill  out  and  sign,  and  these  became  vouchers 
later  for  their  pay  when  the  goods  were  purchased 
and  brought  to  camp.  My  sutler  seemed  to  have  a 
very  select  trade  among  the  officers,  for  his  orders 
called  for  champagne,  brandy,  whiskey,  high-grade 
canned  and  bottled  goods,  in  fact  all  sorts  of  delicacies 
and  necessities,  and  he  had  filled  and  checked  up  all 
his  orders,  and  we  got  his  goods. 

A  short  time  after  this  raid  I  was  in  Richmond  for 
a  day  or  two,  and  at  my  father's  office,  which  was  a 
sort  of  rendezvous  for  officers  on  leave,  especially  for 
Louisianians  and  Marylanders,  who  could  not  get  to 
their  homes.  The  morning  of  my  arrival  there  I  found 
the  office  pretty  well  filled  with  these  officers,  and 
among  them  General  Pickett  and  old  Colonel  Fred, 
Skinner.  I  took  out  my  sutler's  requisitions  and  read 
them  to  the  officers,  who  listened  with  bated  breath  to 
the  fairy  story  I  was  reciting.  I  wound  up  by  saying: 


THE  SUTLEP  213 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  you've  heard  me  tell  you  of  all 
these  good  things,  and  I'll  add  that  we  captured  every 
one  of  them  and  consumed  them,  and  it  is  quite  a 
common  occurrence  for  us  to  do  the  same  thing." 

If  you  will  only  think  that  at  that  time  a  grand 
dinner  in  Richmond  consisted  of  bacon  and  corn  bread, 
you  can  appreciate  the  heartlessness  of  my  conduct. 
Old  Colonel  Skinner  swore  he  would  resign  at  once 
and  join  our  Command.  For  the  rest  of  my  stay  in 
my  father's  office  I  believe  I  was  disliked  by  every 
hungry  officer  in  the  room. 

Very  near  the  close  of  the  war,  I  believe  it  was  only 
a  few  days  before  Lee  surrendered,  John  Russell  and 
I  were  on  a  scout  in  the  Valley,  when  we  saw  a  man 
walking  with  two  ladies  near  the  camps  of  the  Union 
army.  We  galloped  over  to  him  and  found  he  was 
a  sutler  who  was  taking  a  little  stroll  outside  of  his 
lines  with  two  of  his  best  girls.  When  we  pounced 
on  him  the  girls  broke  away  from  him  with  little 
screams,  and  we  each  took  hold  of  one  of  his  wrists 
and,  keeping  him  between  us,  galloped  back  to  where 
we  started  from,  our  sutler  running  along  to  keep  his 
arms  from  being  pulled  out  of  their  sockets.  As  we 
ran  I  reached  down  on  my  side  of  him  and  took  his 
watch  and  chain  out  of  his  pocket,  very  carefully, 
while  John  Russell  reached  down  on  his  side  and  got 
his  pocket-book.  Then  I  slipped  his  ring  gently  off  his 
finger  while  John  as  gently  slipped  his  scarf-pin  out 
of  his  tie.  By  the  time  we  had  finished  running  him 
we  had  finished  searching  him.  We  were  only  search 
ing  him.  Then  we  discovered  that  his  coat  and  trous- 


214  A  MOSEY  GUERRILLA 

ers  and  boots,  being  all  of  fashionable  style  and  good 
quality,  would  be  very  acceptable  to  a  couple  of  young 
country  fellows  we  knew,  so  we  relieved  him  of  these 
also.  We  left  him  his  undershirt,  drawers,  socks  and 
a  red  cravat.  Then  we  turned  him  loose  and  told 
him  to  go  back  to  camp,  suggesting  that  he  hurry  up. 
He  started  off  on  a  run,  and  we  could  see  him  until 
he  got  inside  his  lines  for,  in  his  efforts  to  avoid 
the  two  girls,  he  skirted  around  among  the  hills  and 
valleys  for  a  mile  or  so ;  we  could  see  those  little  white 
legs  trotting  along  faster  than  they  had  ever  carried 
him  before.  If  either  of  those  girls  saw  him  stripped 
as  we  left  him,  he  never  got  one  of  them  for  his  wife. 
General  Augur  thought  to  catch  Mosby  at  one  time 
by  sending  one  of  his  detectives,  named  Pardon  Worse- 
ly,  to  our  country  in  the  guise  of  a  sutler.  He  came 
with  a  wagon  load  of  fine  stuff  and  had  his  wife  with 
him.  He  said  she  was  his  wife,  and  we  did  not  ask 
to  see  his  marriage  certificate.  As  soon  as  he  got 
into  our  country  he  was  promptly  captured,  but  he 
begged  the  men  to  take  him  before  Mosby  and  let 
him  tell  his  story,  which  he  did.  He  said  he  had 
slipped  through  the  lines  with  his  load,  believing  we 
would  be  glad  to  protect  him  and  buy  his  goods  from 
him,  if  he  would  promise  to  fill  our  orders  for  any 
thing  we  wanted  at  fair  prices.  It  sounded  very  nice, 
but  Mosby  looked  him  over  very  carefully  and  sized 
him  up  correctly.  He  told  Worsely  he  had  caught 
too  many  sutlers  to  be  caught  by  one,  but  that  he 
would  protect  him  if  he  would  fill  our  orders  and  make 
no  effort  to  do  any  funny  business. 


THE  SUTLER  215 

Worsely  saw  a  fine  opening  for  making  a  lot  of 
money  by  fooling  General  Augur,  and  for  some  time 
we  enjoyed  an  open  express  line  to  the  North.  I  sup 
pose  Augur  caught  on  in  time  and  put  our  transporta 
tion  line  out  of  business. 

Among  the  things  I  ordered  Worsley  to  bring  me 
was  a  big  doll  baby  for  a  little  girl  relative  at  home. 
Worsley  made  me  pay  him  twenty  dollars  in  gold  for 
it.  I  suppose  he  got  it  for  five,  but  it  was  as  big  as 
a  real  young  baby,  and  when  it  arrived  in  Richmond 
people  from  all  parts  of  the  city  came  to  see  it,  for 
there  had  not  been  a  new  doll  baby  in  Richmond  since 
the  war  began. 

I  also  got  him  to  buy  me  cloth  for  a  fine  suit  of 
clothes  and,  in  fact,  a  general  outfit  of  finery  for  which 
he  made  me  pay  regular  blackmail  prices,  but  I  made 
him  pay  me  a  good  stiff  price  for  a  big  box  of  chew 
ing  tobacco  and  in  that  way  I  got  even  with  him. 
Colonel  Mosby  got  old  Worsley  to  bring  him  a  sack  of 
coffee  from  the  North,  and  I  believe  he  had  some  of 
that  coffee  on  hand  when  the  war  ended. 

On  July  13,  1863,  Mosby,  with  twenty-seven  men 
with  him  in  Fairfax  county,  captured  twenty-nine 
loaded  sutler's  wagons,  about  one  hundred  prisoners 
and  nealy  one  hundred  and  fifty  horses.  He  brought 
his  captures  out  safely  as  far  as  Aldie  on  the  turnpike, 
when  he  was  overtaken  by  Colonel  Lowell  with  two 
hundred  men  of  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry, 
and  nearly  all  the  prisoners,  with  all  the  wagons  and 
horses,  were  recaptured.  If  the  boys  could  only  have 
got  home  safely  with  those  twenty-nine  loaded  wagons 


216  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

we  could  have  opened  a  big  department  store  in  Mos- 
by's  confederacy. 

On  October  u,  1863,  about  forty  of  us,  under 
Mosby,  were  on  a  raid  and  scouting  trip  in  Fairfax 
county,  on  the  pike  a  few  miles  from  Alexandria. 
We  had  lain  hidden  in  the  thick  pines  all  the  day 
before,  because  the  Yankees  were  all  around  us,  and 
constantly  on  the  move  along  the  roads.  Mosby  took 
Walter  Whaley  with  him  and  hid  in  the  bushes  where 
he  could  see  the  pike,  and  Captain  Smith  made  me  go 
with  him  a  little  farther  up  the  road,  where  we  got 
another  hiding  place  on  the  pike.  A  body  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  cavalry  came  along,  which  for  ob 
vious  reasons  we  did  not  attack.  They  were  the  es 
cort  of  a  long  train  of  wagons,  and  we  preferred  wag 
ons  to  large  bodies  of  cavalry,  so  we  waited  for  the 
wagons.  Mosby  and  Whaley  rode  out  from  their 
hiding  place  and  cut  out  a  few  of  the  last  wagons  of 
the  train  and  had  them  driven  into  the  woods,  while 
Captain  Smith  and  I  picked  up  a  straggling  wagon  in 
the  extreme  end  of  the  train  and  gathered  it  into  the 
common  fund.  It  proved  to  be  a  gold  mine,  and 
the  Waldorf-Astoria  never  spread  before  its  guests 
a  more  enjoyable  feast  than  we  consumed  that  morn 
ing.  All  sorts  of  eatables  and  drinkables,  all  sorts 
of  wearing  apparel  and  useful  and  ornamental  things 
and,  best  of  all  in  our  opinion,  nearly  two  hundred 
pairs  of  cavalry  boots.  We  simply  revelled  in  riches 
out  of  that  unfortunate  sutler's  supplies. 

A  man  named  Dunham,  living  in  that  part  of  the 
country,  had  been  down  to  Alexandria  with  his  wife 


THE  SUTLER  217 

trying  to  buy  supplies,  but  was  refused  the  privilege ; 
they  were  on  their  way  back  to  their  home,  in  their 
empty  wagon,  when  they  were  brought  into  our  camp 
at  the  time  we  were  in  the  midst  of  enjoying  the  sut 
ler's  goods.  We  listened  to  their  hard-luck  story  and 
amply  recompensed  them  for  their  fruitless  trip  by 
loading  up  their  wagon  with  something  of  the  entire 
supply  we  had  appropriated.  I  thought  our  men  were 
past-masters  in  the  art  of  handling  sutlers'  goods,  but 
Dunham  and  his  wife  made  us  ashamed.  It  was  their 
first  experience,  but  they  did  not  require  any  teaching 
from  us.  They  got  a  sample  of  everything. 

On  several  occasions  when  we  captured  sutlers  and 
soldiers  on  the  same  raid  and  opened  up  the  sutler's 
goods  for  distribution  among  our  men,  we  always  in 
vited  the  prisoners  to  pitch  in  and  help  themselves. 
It  was  amusing  to  see  the  fiendish  delight  with  which 
the  boys  in  blue  would  go  through  their  natural  en 
emy.  They  always  looked  upon  their  own  sutlers  as 
robbers,  and  they  never  got  a  chance  to  get  even  with 
their  foe  except  on  occasions  of  this  sort. 

Mosby  sent  a  party  of  us  into  Maryland  in  the 
summer  of  1864,  under  Lieutenant  Joe  Nelson,  and 
our  objective  point  was  Adamstown,  on  the  Baltimore 
&  Ohio  Railroad.  When  we  galloped  into  the  little 
town  we  were  on  the  lookout  for  sutlers'  stores  more 
than  for  soldiers  and,  spying  a  rather  attractive  store, 
the  boys  dismounted  and  began  appropriating  the 
stock.  The  owner  was  frantic  in  his  objections  to  our 
robbing  him,  claiming  to  be  a  good  Southerner,  and 
rushed  around  among  the  men  begging  and  threaten- 


2i8  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

ing  by  turns.  We  paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  when 
we  filled  our  sacks  with  plunder  of  all  sorts  and  were 
about  to  mount,  Joe  Nelson  came  in  and  ordered  every 
man  to  give  back  whatever  he  had  taken  or  pay  for  it, 
saying  we  had  no  right  to  rob  a  good  Southerner.  I 
had  my  doubts  about  the  man's  loyalty  to  Jeff.  Davis, 
and  also  had  my  mind  firmly  made  up  to  carry  back 
with  me  at  all  hazards  my  carefully  selected  assortment 
of  merchandise,  which  I  considered  worth  several  hun 
dred  dollars.  I  was  enough  of  a  soldier  however  to 
obey  the  orders  of  my  superior  officer,  so  I  gave  the 
merchant  five  dollars  in  Confederate  money  and,  with 
out  waiting  for  the  change,  or  for  his  receipt,  rode 
south.  One  of  our  boys  who  had  taken  a  lot  of  the 
man's  hats  paid  for  them  by  leaving  his  own.  We 
started  back  home  after  doing  all  the  damage  we  could 
and  recrossed  the  Potomac  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Monocacy  river,  but  not  before  we  had  to  whip  about 
fifty  Federals  stationed  there  to  cut  us  off.  They 
thought  they  had  us  in  a  trap,  but  Joe  Nelson  and 
Harry  Hatcher,  each  with  a  part  of  our  little  Com 
mand,  charged  them  from  different  directions  and 
killed  four  of  them  and  captured  a  dozen  more.  We 
charged  and  scattered  another  crowd  at  the  river  and 
captured  six  of  them.  Our  only  casualty  was  the 
wounding  of  Johnny  Alexander,  who  on  that  occasion, 
as  on  all  others,  never  knew  when  to  stop  fighting. 
We  brought  him  out  safely. 

When  we  rejoined  Mosby  he  asked  some  of  the  men, 
not  me,  where  the  captured  good  things  were  and  was 
told  Joe  Nelson  had  prohibited  the  men  from  bringing 


THE  SUTLER  219 

any  away  because  the  store  keeper  was  a  good  rebel 
sympathizer.  Mosby  said  he  gave  no  such  order,  and 
that  we  ought  to  have  taken  everything  in  the  store, 
for  the  man  was  one  of  the  worst  Yankees  in  Mary 
land.  My  conscience  was  at  once  eased  and  I  rather 
regretted  parting  with  my  five  dollar  Confederate  bill, 
though  just  at  that  time  it  would  have  only  bought  me 
one  good  cigar  in  Richmond. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   CELEBRATED  GREENBACK  RAID 

IN  reading  these  recollections,  I  would  suggest  that 
the  reader  should  keep  in  sight  the  fact  that  our 
mission  was  to  "  annoy  the  enemy."  How  we  did 
it,  when  we  did  it,  and  where  we  did  it,  were  left  to 
our  own  ingenuity  and  application,  the  whole  idea 
being  to  make  the  Federal  army  uncomfortable. 

One  of  our  modes  of  annoyance  was  to  tear  up  part 
of  the  railroad  track  and  stop  a  train.  If  the  officers 
and  the  men  had  anything  valuable  about  their  persons, 
we  annoyed  them  also ;  but  it  was  the  enemy  in  general, 
the  great  and  glorious  United  States  Government,  that 
our  little  body  of  men  were  trying  to  worry  and  de 
stroy  piecemeal.  A  pretty  big  undertaking,  wasn't  it  ? 

I  suppose  that  if  General  Sheridan  had  been  asked 
what  he  considered  the  greatest  piece  of  annoyance 
introduced  into  his  campaign  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia 
in  1864,  by  Mosby's  men,  he  would  have  cited  what 
was  known  as  the  "  greenback  raid,"  for  it  annoys 
any  officer  to  lose  all  his  pay  roll  at  one  fell  swoop, 
especially  when  it  summed  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
dollars.  Sheridan  did  not  lack  opportunity  for  com 
paring  our  different  grades  of  annoyance,  for  while 
he  was  campaigning  that  summer  and  autumn  in  the 
Valley  of  Virginia  we  took  good  pains  to  let  him 

220 


THE  GREENBACK  RAID  221 

know  we  were  around.  He  had  not  been  in  the  saddle 
but  a  few  days  when  we  swept  down  on  one  of  his  big 
wagon  trains  and  cleaned  it  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

In  many  respects  the  greenback  raid  was  as  sensa 
tional  as  any  event  for  which  we  were  responsible.  It 
brought  to  our  Southern  friends  an  idea  of  suddenly 
acquired  wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice  for,  at 
the  time  it  occurred,  our  Confederate  money  was  get 
ting  very  low  in  purchasing  ability,  and  a  greenback 
note  seemed  to  them  as  big  and  as  green  as  a  wheat 
field  in  May.  In  fact  most  of  them  had  never  seen  a 
greenback  and  none  of  them  had  ever  owned  one. 

To  the  average  Northern  man  it  was  a  blow  at  the 
pocket  of  his  Government,  and  a  Northern  man  does 
not  like  a  blow  at  his  pocket.  He  makes  his  money 
generally  by  his  brains,  and  he  does  not  like  to  see  it 
slip  away  from  him  for  lack  of  precaution.  To  say 
the  least  it  was  an  annoyance  and  that  is  just  the  thing 
we  wanted  it  to  be.  It  came  about  in  this  way : 

On  the  twelfth  of  October,  1864,  Colonel  Mosby 
took  eighty  of  our  Command  over  to  the  Valley  to 
operate  in  Sheridan's  rear.  They  crossed  the  Shenan- 
doah  river  in  the  night  and  arrived  on  the  Valley 
turnpike  the  next  day  in  time  to  pick  up  some  stray 
prisoners,  coming  and  going.  As  nothing  of  special 
interest  developed  during  the  day,  except  their  occa 
sional  captures,  the  Colonel  moved  the  Command  at 
dusk  towards  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio  Railroad,  and 
halted  before  midnight  immediately  on  the  line  of  the 
railroad  about  eight  or  ten  miles  west  of  Harper's 
Ferry.  A  detail  of  men  began  ripping  up  the  track,, 


222  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

with  the  idea  of  derailing  a  train  from  Washington. 
The  Colonel  had  selected  a  deep  cut  in  the  road  as  the 
most  likely  place  to  derail  a  flyer,  figuring  that  the 
high  embankment  would  protect  the  train  from  top 
pling  over  and  becoming  a  total  wreck.  He  was  al 
ways  considerate  of  non-combatants,  no  matter  how 
actively  we  might  be  engaged  in  annoying  the  enemy. 

After  tearing  up  the  rails  the  horses  were  taken 
back  from  the  immediate  line  of  vision  of  the  track 
and  the  men  partly  concealed  themselves  and  waited 
for  a  train  to  round  the  curve. 

It  was  one  of  those  cold  autumnal  nights  that  al 
ways  seem  colder  in  the  South  than  anywhere  else, 
and  the  boys  needed  something  to  warm  their  blood. 
Let  me  say  here,  while  I  am  speaking  of  warming 
blood,  that  there  was  not  a  more  temperate  body  of 
men  in  the  army  than  Mosby's.  Although  there  were 
a  number  of  distilleries  scattered  through  our  country, 
and  home-made  whiskey  could  be  had  for  the  asking, 
I  very  rarely  saw  one  of  our  men  who  drank  it,  and 
I  never  saw  a  drunken  Mosby  man  in  all  my  army 
life.  Mosby  would  not  tolerate  drunkenness,  and  the 
fact  was  that  no  man  among  us  could  afford  to  muddle 
his  brain  with  drink,  for  he  needed  his  wits  all  the 
time.  Lots  of  our  men  carried  captured  canteens  but 
they  did  not  contain  whiskey. 

Shortly  after  midnight  the  whistle  of  the  engine  was 
heard,  and  in  a  few  minutes  she  came  snorting  along 
at  full  speed.  The  men  hugged  the  ground  a  little 
closer  and  stopped  breathing,  waiting  for  the  crunch 
of  the  wheels  in  the  sand  and  gravel,  and  the  fight 


THE  GREENBACK  RAID  223 

that  might  have  to  follow  if  the  soldiers  were  aboard. 

Nearer  she  thundered.  Every  man  put  out  a  re 
straining  hand  to  hold  his  neighbor  down.  There  was 
a  flash  of  yellow  light  in  the  deep  cut,  and  with  a 
snort  that  was  almost  human  the  engine  and  entire 
train  proceeded  to  rush  off  the  track  and  turn  over 
against  the  side  of  the  cut  on  the  side  of  the  curve, 
where  it  brought  up  jangling  and  groaning.  The  en 
gineer  knew  that  the  rails  had  been  purposely  removed, 
and  throwing  his  throttle  to  dead  center,  stopped. 
A  volume  of  steam  escaping  from  the  exhaust  filled 
the  air  with  a  white  cloud,  out  of  which  our  men  be 
gan  dropping  on  the  train  from  the  bank  above.  The 
conductor  stepped  from  the  train,  waved  his  lantern 
and  said : 

"  All  right,  gentlemen,  the  train  is  yours." 

Jim  Wiltshire,  Charley  Dear  and  West  Aldrich 
climbed  into  a  car,  emitting  the  Mosby  yell  and  howled, 
"  Surrender  "  to  the  whole  crowd. 

A  soldier  at  the  far  end  of  the  car  drew  his  pistol 
and  before  he  had  a  chance  to  use  it  Charley  Dear 
dropped  him  in  his  tracks.  He  and  West  Aldrich 
rushed  up  to  a  group  of  five  officers  and  demanded 
their  surrender.  Two  of  the  group  bore  the  rank  of 
Major,  and  one  of  them  held  in  his  hand  a  bag  to 
which  he  clung  as  if  he  wanted  to  fight  for  it;  and 
his  associates  advised  giving  it  up  and  surrendering. 

The  persistence  with  which  the  officers  adhered  to 
the  bag  and  tin  box,  supplied  excellent  evidence  of  their 
worth,  and  Charley  Dear  and  Aldrich  insisted  on  tak 
ing  possession  of  officers  and  luggage.  They  took  the 


224  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

party  to  Colonel  Mosby  who  was  busy  giving  orders. 
Before  they  reached  him  with  their  prize  some 
body  told  somebody  else  that  somebody  had  said  the 
bag  and  box  contained  greenbacks,  and  that  the  two 
captured  Majors  were  Ruggles  and  Moore,  Paymas 
ters  of  Sheridan's  army. 

They  confirmed  the  rumor  and  admitted  that  they 
carried  the  pay  for  the  army. 

The  booty  was  immediately  passed  over  to  four  of 
our  boys,  Grogan,  Wiltshire,  Dear  and  Aldrich,  with 
instructions  to  fly  across  the  Shenandoah  river  and 
the  Blue  Ridge  mountains  into  Loudoun  county,  and 
to  there  await  the  coming  of  Colonel  Mosby  and  the 
Command. 

In  the  meantime  the  rest  of  the  boys  were  taking 
charge  of  things  generally.  The  ten  cars  of  which  the 
train  was  made  up  were  rapidly  emptied ;  the  civilians 
separated  from  the  soldiers,  and  a  torch  was  applied 
to  the  rolling  stock  of  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio  Railroad. 
A  lot  of  foreigners  aboard  who  could  not  speak  Eng 
lish  were  only  induced  to  leave  the  cars  when  the  fire 
was  well  started. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  Jim  Wiltshire  was 
seen  escorting  a  handsome  lady  away  from  the  burning 
train.  His  gallantry  was  never  under  eclipse.  It 
was  said  when  she  reached  the  Colonel  she  threw  her 
self,  figuratively  speaking,  into  his  arms,  crying, 

"  Oh  save  me,  save  me,  Colonel  Mosby,  my  husband 
is  a  Mason." 

She  then  tried,  dramatically,  to  swoon,  and  the 
Colonel  replied,  "  I  can't  help  that,  but  you  shan't  be 


THE  GREENBACK  RAID  225 

harmed,  notwithstanding,"  and  had  her  escorted  back 
to  the  group  of  civilians,  no  doubt  by  the  gallant  Wilt 
shire. 

Quite  a  collection  of  prisoners  was  got  together  for 
the  homeward  march;  tender  good-byes  were  spoken, 
much  more  tender  on  the  part  of  the  Rangers  than  the 
forsaken  civilians  and,  with  the  sparks  flaring  into 
the  black  sky  and  the  prisoners  hanging  their  dejected 
heads,  the  little  column  vanished  as  silently  as  it  had 
come,  fading  away  into  the  autumnal  night,  once  only, 
halting  and  looking  back  at  the  group  clustered 
around  the  burning  cars. 

The  whole  thing,  while  it  was  almost  a  bloodless 
affair,  had  its  element  of  tragedy  and  some  humor  as 
well.  While  the  Colonel  sat  on  his  horse,  looking  at 
the  confusion  of  the  burning  train,  Monroe  Heiskell, 
a  grandson  of  President  Monroe,  brought  a  prisoner 
to  him  who  had  been  captured  by  Charley  Dear.  The 
man  had  on  a  foreign  uniform,  or  rather  part  of  it, 
and  spoke  broken  English.  He  had  explained  to  Heis 
kell  that  Mosby's  men  had  taken  from  him,  in  addition 
to  everything  of  value  which  he  possessed,  a  very 
highly  prized  ring,  an  heirloom,  which  he  hoped  could 
be  restored  to  him.  Charley  did  not  take  his  ring: 
he  only  took  his  overcoat  and  gave  it  to  Jim  Wiltshire. 

Mosby  inquired  where  he  was  from,  what  uniform 
he  wore,  and  learned  that  the  man  was  formerly  an 
officer  in  the  Austrian  army  and  that  his  acquaintance 
with  American  life  was  necessarily  brief,  inasmuch  as 
he  just  arrived.  What  he  wanted  most,  however,  was 
to  recover  that  family  ring. 


226  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

"  What  the  devil  did  you  want  to  come  over  here  to 
fight  us  for  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  I  come  to  learn  de  tactics,"  he  answered. 

"  Well,  that's  part  of  them/'  replied  Colonel  Mosby, 
gathering  up  his  reins  and  trotting  away.  Before  his 
departure,  however,  he  asked  Heiskell  to  try  and  re 
cover  the  officer's  ring  and  restore  it  to  him,  which  was 
done,  and  the  student  of  tactics  was  admonished  to 
look  out  for  himself  in  the  future.  Heiskell  also 
handed  his  prisoner  some  money,  advising  that  he 
would  find  it  of  service  to  him  when  he  got  into  Libby 
prison  in  Richmond,  to  which  he  was  soon  to  be 
headed  under  guard.  Not  long  afterwards  the  Aus 
trian  halted  Heiskell  as  he  passed  by  with  wailing  and 
lamentation,  and  said, 

"  De  poys  haf  robbed  me  again." 

This  was  more  tactics. 

In  the  meantime  Mosby's  financial  committee  was 
hurrying  into  Loudoun  county  with  the  treasure-laden 
box  and  bag.  It  was  said  that  one  of  the  four  men, 
Charley  Grogan,  had  a  fall  in  the  darkness,  and 
dropped  his  package,  which  burst  open  and  let  the 
money  out  on  the  ground,  and  that,  when  the  others 
returned  to  help  him  gather  it  up  and  save  it,  he  waved 
them  away  with  the  remark  that  a  few  thousand  dol 
lars  made  no  difference  as  there  must  be  millions  of 
it  still  left. 

Close  on  the  heels  of  the  three  men  followed  the 
rest  of  the  Command.  The  plunder  bearers  were 
overtaken  at  the  appointed  spot  and  a  balance  sheet 
was  struck,  with  the  result  that  the  treasury  was  found 


THE  GREENBACK  RAID  227 

to  contain  one  hundred  and  seventy  thousand  dollars 
in  crisp  new  greenbacks,  issued  by  the  Government 
which  it  was  our  duty  and  our  pleasure  to  annoy. 

The  money  was  divided  then  and  there,  each  of  the 
men  who  were  on  the  raid  receiving  twenty-one  hun 
dred  dollars.  Not  a  cent  of  this  money  went  to  Col 
onel  Mosby.  He  paid  his  own  way  during  the  whole 
of  his  Partisan  Ranger  career  out  of  his  private 
means,  buying  his  own  horses  and  uniforms  and  every 
thing  he  had.  It  was  one  of  his  delicate  notions  of 
honor,  and  his  men  respected  him  for  it.  Officers  of 
other  Commands  who  took  captured  articles  lost  not 
only  the  good  opinion  but  the  respect  of  their  men. 

Fancy  the  feelings  of  other  members  of  the  Com 
mand  who  were  on  other  raids  at  the  time,  or  who 
remained  at  home!  No  raid,  no  greenbacks :  that  was 
the  rule.  To  share  the  spoils,  a  man  had  to  share 
the  danger  and  be  at  the  capture.  At  the  very  time 
of  the  Greenback  raid  Captain  William  H.  Chapman 
had  a  part  of  the  Command  on  a  raid  in  Maryland, 
about  eighty  in  all,  burning  boats  on  the  Chesapeake 
&  Ohio  Canal,  capturing  horses  and  mules,  cutting 
telegraph  wires  and  making  himself  disagreeable  gen 
erally.  On  his  return  towards  the  Potomac  river  his 
men  were  attacked  by  the  enemy  under  Captain  Grubb, 
of  Cole's  Battalion,  but  Chapman  whipped  him  severely 
and  captured  a  number  of  his  men  and  horses  without 
the  loss  of  a  man  of  his  own  Command. 

If  one  will  stop  to  think  of  the  effect  these  raids  had 
on  the  powers  in  Washington,  the  full  purpose  of 
"  annoying  the  enemy  "  will  be  understood  and  appre- 


228  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

ciated.  We  plied  our  industrious  calling  over  a  ra 
dius  of  at  least  one  hundred  miles,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  from  one  base.  It  was  necessary  for  the 
Federal  troops  to  guard  every  wagon  train,  railroad 
bridge  and  camp  with  enough  active  and  efficient  men 
to  prevent  Mosby  from  using  his  three  hundred  raid 
ers  in  one  of  his  destructive  rushes  at  any  hour  of  the 
night  or  day.  Thousands  of  soldiers  were  kept  from 
service  at  the  front  because  of  Mosby 's  activity.  Gen 
eral  Grant  at  one  time  reported  that  seventeen  thou 
sand  of  his  men  were  engaged  in  keeping  Mosby  from 
attacking  his  weak  points,  and  thus  away  from  active 
service  on  the  firing  line.  Finally  it  was  not  safe  to 
send  despatches  by  a  courier  unless  a  regiment  was  sent 
along  to  guard  him. 

Mosby  frequently  divided  his  men  into  small  de 
tachments,  each  under  a  competent  officer,  and  sent 
them  out  in  different  directions  with  instructions  to  hit 
a  head  whenever  they  found  it  exposed ;  and,  through 
his  excellent  judgment  of  men,  he  had  surrounded 
himself  with  officers  for  the  different  companies  in 
whom  he  could  place  implicit  confidence  in  carrying 
out  his  orders.  The  men  were  supposed  to  choose 
their  own  officers  for  elections,  but  it  was  merely  a 
little  agreeable  fiction  on  their  part. 

Mosby  knew  what  sort  of  men  could  do  his  bidding 
intelligently  and  when  an  election  was  held  the  slate 
was  already  prepared  and  the  men  wrent  through  the 
hollow  form  of  voting.  He  knew  his  business  better 
than  we  knew  ours.  If  it  had  been  left  to  us  to 
choose  our  captains  and  lieutenants,  some  good  look- 


LIEUTENANT-COLONEL  WILLIAM  H.  CHAPMAN  IN  1865. 


THE  GREENBACK  RAID  229 

ing  fellow  with  big  blue  eyes  would  win  over  a  cool, 
headed,  seasoned  soldier  every  time.  What  did  we 
know  or  care  for  military  talent?  The  boy  with  the 
dash  and  the  merry  song  for  us. 

Washington,  always  with  its  ear  towards  the  seat  of 
war,  would  suddenly  hear  that  a  sleeping  camp  near 
Winchester  had  been  beaten  up  and  a  hundred  men 
and  horses  captured,  with  the  usual  number  of  killed 
and  wounded ;  that  a  wagon  train  near  Fairfax  Court 
House  had  been  stopped,  the  wagons  burned  and  the 
horses  and  mules  driven  off;  that  a  railroad  train  in 
Maryland  and  been  thrown  from  the  track  and  a  lot 
of  prisoners  taken  and  property  destroyed;  that  a 
picket  post  on  the  Potomac  river  had  been  surprised 
and  the  men  killed ;  that  a  raiding  party  had  been  seen 
not  many  miles  from  Washington.  All  this  cheerful 
news  would  come  in  on  the  same  day.  Wasn't  it 
reasonable  that  official  nerves  should  be  somewhat  un 
strung? 

It  was  Mosby's  business  to  keep  this  thing  up,  giving 
as  much  variety  to  the  program  as  possible.  His 
mind  was  constantly  at  work  devising  new  phases  of 
the  entertainment,  besides  keeping  Lee  and  Stuart  in 
formed  of  every  significant  move  of  the  enemy,  using 
his  own  judgment  as  to  the  importance  of  each  inci 
dent  as  it  occurred.  He  could  not  afford  to  make  any 
mistakes. 

The  effect  of  the  greenback  raid  was  electrical. 
Every  telegraph  wire  between  Washington  and  the 
front  was  kept  hot  with  messages.  From  the  most 
remote  points  there  came  back  echoes  of  that  midnight 


23o  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

haul.  Paymasters  wired  to  Washington  for  instruc 
tions  how  to  proceed  or  where  to  hide  their  funds. 
For  instance  Paymaster  Ladd  telegraphed  from  Mar- 
tinsburg  as  follows :  "  I  have  my  funds  in  the  parlor 
of  the  United  States  hotel  here  guarded  by  a  regiment. 
I  shall  make  no  move  until  I  can  do  so  with  safety  and, 
in  the  meantime,  await  orders  from  you." 

The  war  department  wired  to  General  L.  Thomas, 
who  was  at  Wheeling  with  six  regiments  of  negro  sol 
diers,  on  his  way  to  Washington,  that  the  Secretary 
of  War  thought  it  unsafe  to  come  by  the  way  of  the 
Baltimore  &  Ohio,  because  of  Mosby's  liability  to  at 
tack  other  points  on  the  line;  and  suggested  that  he 
should  take  some  other  route.  Every  General  or 
commanding  officer  within  reach  contributed  his  ver 
sion  of  the  story,  and  Washington  was  smothered  with 
telegraphic  advice.  Orders  were  sent  broadcast  to 
"  overtake  the  Guerrillas  and  capture  them."  Troops 
started  out  from  a  dozen  points  some  in  the  right  direc 
tion,  in  wild  pursuit.  There  was  a  great  hullabaloo 
everywhere ;  but  in  the  quiet  of  a  little  Loudoun  county 
village,  undisturbed  by  any  fear  of  interruption,  Uncle 
Sam's  crisp  greenbacks  were  handed  around  equally, 
and  liberally,  among  eighty  of  his  grateful  and  ad 
miring  friends,  and  the  incident  was  closed. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

GLIMPSES    OF    GUERRILLA   LIFE 

WHILE  the  Federals  were  at  work  in  the  autumn 
of  1864,  rebuilding  the  Manassas  Gap  Rail 
road  and  incidentally  occupying  the  best  part 
of  Mosby's  Confederacy,  much  to  our  disgust,  Lieu 
tenant  Ed.  Thomson  with  about  thirty  men  rode  over 
to  the  neighborhood  of  Salem,  now  called  Marshall, 
and  stopped  in  a  little  ravine.  Thomson  wanted  to 
draw  the  enemy  out  from  the  town  so  he  could  get  at 
them  on  some  sort  of  fair  basis  as  to  numbers,  and  he 
thought  the  best  way  to  get  them  out  was  to  go  in 
town  or  send  in  and  invite  them  out  by  firing  into 
them.  He  asked  for  three  volunteers  to  undertake  the 
rather  risky  job,  and  Louis  Powell,  Tom  Benton  Ship 
ley,  of  Baltimore,  and  Bowie  of  the  Northern  Neck, 
stepped  to  the  front  before  others  could  answer.  They 
were  first  class  men,  always  ready  for  any  duty,  and 
game. 

Poor  Powell  ran  amuck  after  the  war  and  paid  with 
his  life  for  his  mistake.  While  in  our  Command  he 
boarded  with  a  Mr.  Payne,  and  in  some  unaccountable 
way,  certainly  in  a  moment  of  temporary  insanity  or 
mistaken  loyalty  to  the  South,  he  joined  in  the  assas 
sination  of  President  Loncoln,  taking  the  name  of  his 
old  host,  Mr.  Payne,  and  making  the  name  a  disgrace 
for  the  many  well-born,  well-bred  people  of  our  coun- 

231 


232  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

try  who  bore  it,  until  they  found  his  name  was  Powell. 
It  was  he  who  attacked  and  stabbed  Mr.  Seward,  the 
night  that  Booth  killed  the  President.  I  have  never 
heard  how  he  became  one  of  that  crowd  of  crazed  con 
spirators,  but  I  have  always  held  that  it  was  the  orig 
inal  purpose  of  Booth  and  his  associates  to  try  and 
kidnap  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  perhaps  other  prominent  offi 
cials,  and  get  them  across  the  upper  Potomac  and  into 
our  part  of  the  county,  and  hide  them  in  the  mountains 
until  terms  for  their  release  could  be  made  with  the 
authorities  at  Washington.  If  Powell  suggested  it  I 
would  not  be  surprised,  for  he  was  always  keyed  up 
for  any  new  sensation.  When  he  left  our  Command 
to  go  to  Washington  he  became  a  deserter,  and  our 
connection  with  him  ceased. 

But  to  our  story.  Powell  and  Shipley  and  Bowie 
galloped  into  Salem  and  fired  on  the  pickets,  while 
Thomson  and  his  men  were  concealed  in  the  bushes, 
watching  for  the  enemy  to  come  out,  and  ready  to  sig 
nal  to  John  Puryear  to  charge  them,  with  Thomson  in 
the  rear,  as  they  passed.  Our  men  got  them  in  a 
lane  between  Utterback's  and  Shumate's  and  killed, 
wounded,  and  captured  all  but  one  of  them.  The  man 
who  escaped  was  chased  by  Thomson  and  John  Dulin 
for  a  mile  to  Tom  Rector's  gate,  where  they  killed 
his  horse,  not  intentionally,  while  he  jumped  the  fence 
and  got  away. 

When  Thomson  got  back  to  his  men  they  gathered 
all  the  prisoners  together,  many  of  them  wounded, 
and  the  road  was  filled  with  their  dead  and  dying. 
The  prisoners  were  sent  out  to  Gordonsville,  and 


GLIMPSES  OF  GUERRILLA  LIFE      233 

Thomson  got  a  promise  from  the  Misses  Mount  joy  to 
care  for  the  wounded.  He  turned  over  one  of  the 
wounded  men  to  a  Mr.  Wm.  A.  Morgan,  a  gentleman 
who  lived  in  that  locality,  and  the  kindness  bestowed 
on  the  man  was  well  repaid  by  the  protection  given 
him  by  Colonel  Gallop,  Commander  of  the  regiment 
at  Salem  to  whom  Thomson  had  applied  for  a  surgeon 
and  nurse  for  the  wounded  men.  Colonel  Gallop  com 
plimented  Thomson  for  his  kindness. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  say  what  John  Puryear  did 
that  day.  He  was  supposed  to  be  in  command  of  a 
part  of  our  men,  but  he  forgot  all  about  that  when  the 
fight  opened  and,  as  he  dashed  along  that  lane  where 
everybody  was  crowded,  he  mowed  them  down.  We 
captured  about  seventy-five  men  and  their  horses  and 
did  not  lose  a  man. 

I  never  knew  of  any  sham  that  could  fool  Mosby. 
No  sham  soldier  could  do  it  for  a  minute.  Many 
people  within  the  Confederate  lines  never  saw  a  grain 
of  real  coffee  after  the  second  year  of  the  war,  and 
in  its  stead  they  drank  decoctions  of  roasted  peanuts, 
or  beans,  or  sweet  potatoes,  or  almost  anything  that 
would  look  black,  and  taste  burnt.  Mosby  would  not 
drink  a  drop  of  any  such  sham  coffee,  and  he  could 
distinguish  the  slightest  adulterated  article  from  the 
real  bean. 

As  we  were  always  inside  the  enemy's  lines,  there 
were  many  of  the  people  who  managed  in  some  way 
to  get  a  little  coffee  now  and  then.  Those  at  whose 
homes  the  Colonel  occasionally  called  to  pay  a  short 
visit  or  take  a  meal,  and  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to 


234  A  MOSBY  .GUERRILLA 

have  a  supply  of  coffee,  would  always  see  to  it  that  he 
had  a  cup  of  the  real  stuff,  no  matter  what  the  rest 
of  us  had  to  drink. 

In  order  to  insure  his  supply  he  sent  North  by  a 
sutler  and  bought  a  sack  of  it  and  divided  it  around 
among  his  friends,  as  geographically  equal  as  possible. 
He  reserved  a  small  portion  for  emergencies,  and  at 
times  carried  a  little  bag  of  it  in  his  saddle  pocket 
when  he  went  on  a  raid.  I  do  not  believe  the  Colonel 
ever  drank  a  glass  of  whiskey  in  his  life. 

When  I  asked  some  of  the  members  of  our  Com 
mand  to  let  me  have  a  few  of  their  recollections  to  add 
to  mine,  I  got  a  reply  from  Fred  Hipkins,  who  is  a 
broker  living  in  New  York. 

He  said  that  he  remembered  "  once  upon  a  time  " 
when  he  and  I  were  with  the  Colonel  on  a  scout  in  the 
Valley  of  Virginia,  and  the  Colonel  wanted  a  cup  of 
coffee  badly.  Taking  a  little  bag  of  the  roasted  ar 
ticle  from  his  saddle  pocket  he  gave  it  to  me  and 

told  me  to  ride  to  Mrs. 's  not  far  from  where  we 

were  hidden  in  the  woods,  and  get  her  to  make  a 
cup  of  it  for  him.  As  I  started  away  he  told  me  not 
to  let  her  make  it  unless  she  had  some  sugar  to 
sweeten  it  with.  When  sufficient  time  had  elapsed  as 
he  thought  for  the  proper  brewing  of  the  beverage 

he  and  Fred  Hipkins  followed  me  to  Mrs. 's  and 

on  entering  found  an  elaborate  breakfast  prepared  at 
my  request,  consisting  of  fried  chicken,  ham  and  eggs, 
hot  biscuits,  flannel  cakes,  honey,  and  peaches  and 
cream.  The  lady  served  us  bountifully  and  poured 
a  cup  of  steaming  hot  coffee,  for  the  Colonel,  remark- 


GLIMPSES  OF  GUERRILLA  LIFE      235 

mg  as  she  handed  it  to  him  gracefully,  "  I  am  awfully 
sorry,  Colonel  Mosby,  but  I  have  not  a  lump  of  sugar 
in  the  house."  Hipkins  says  the  Colonel  stopped  short 
as  if  he  had  been  stricken,  and  turning  sharply  on  me 
said,  "  I  thought  I  told  you  distinctly  not  to  have  my 
coffee  made  if  you  could  not  get  some  sugar  to  sweeten 
it."  He  ignored  the  chicken,  and  the  ham  and  eggs, 
and  the  cakes,  and  everything  else  on  the  groaning 
board  and  only  thought  of  his  coffee.  What  effect 
his  disappointment  had  on  our  hostess  I  do  not  know, 
but  the  absence  of  the  sugar  did  not  interfere  with  the 
healthy  appetites  of  the  Colonel's  two  scouts. 

Captain  "  Bill  "  Kennon  was  a  polished,  highly  edu 
cated,  well-bred  gentleman  who  was  a  conspicious 
member  of  our  Command.  He  was  somewhat  of  an 
adventurer  and  free  lance,  and  had  served  with  Wal 
ker,  in  his  Nicaragua  filibustering  expedition,  a  few 
years  before  the  war.  He  was  a  delightful  man  to  talk 
to,  or  rather  to  listen  to,  for  he  was  the  most  pic 
turesque  liar,  in  a  harmless  way,  that  I  ever  knew. 
Colonel  Mosby  always  enjoyed  "  Bill's  "  romancing, 
and  the  Captain  never  wearied  of  contributing  to  his 
and  our  amusement  and  amazement.  He  was  not  in 
the  least  coarse  in  his  conversation,  but  he  sometimes 
indulged  in  a  little  well  selected  profanity.  It  was 
refreshing  to  hear  him  when  he  used  his  full  repertoire. 

On  one  occasion  he  was  riding  along  a  road  in 
Orange  county  near  General  Stuart's  camp,  when  he 
was  overtaken  by  an  army  chaplain  who  picked  up  a 
conversation  with  him.  Captain  "  Bill  "  was  not  long 
in  discovering  his  chance  acquaintance's  calling  and 


236  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

controlled  his  profane  tendencies  far  longer  than  he 
was  accustomed  to.  Finally  the  reverend  gentleman 
asked  Captain  Bill  what  part  of  the  army  he  belonged 
to,  and  the  Captain  said  he  was  chaplain  for  Mosby's 
Command.  In  great  surprise  the  stranger  asked : 

"  Don't  you  find  them  a  hard  crowd,  Brother  Ken- 
non?" 

The  Captain  was  at  the  end  of  his  rope,  and  replied : 
''  Yes,  my  brother,  a  damned  hard  crowd." 

He  was  quite  a  lady's  man,  and  as  he  was  a  very 
handsome,  as  well  as  a  fascinating  man,  his  company 
was  sought  by  the  gentler  sex  and  much  enjoyed. 

In  the  early  part  of  these  recollections  I  said  in 
speaking  of  our  men  in  a  general  way  that  we  did  not 
know  anything  about  bugle  calls.  I  forgot  about 
Brewer.  Brewer  said  he  knew  all  about  them  and 
none  of  us  dared  contradict  him,  for  we  had  no  way 
to  prove  he  was  lying.  But  there  were  a  lot  of  us 
youngsters  who  doubted  Brewer's  assertion  and  we 
concentrated  our  efforts  for  several  months  after 
Brewer  came  to  us  with  his  musical  bravado,  on  the 
capture  of  a  Yankee  bugler  with  his  instrument. 
While  we  were  looking  for  that  bugler,  I  believe  we 
would  have  scorned  to  capture  a  sutler's  wagon,  so  in 
tent  were  we  on  humiliating  poor  little  Brewer.  At 
last  we  were  rewarded.  In  a  fight  one  day  with  a 
raiding  party  some  one  of  our  anti-Brewer  crowd  spied 
a  bugler  at  the  head  of  the  column.  Like  the  follow 
ers  of  Robert  the  Bruce,  King  of  Scotland,  when  his 
heart,  encased  in  a  silver  casket,  was  thrown  far  into 
the  ranks  of  the  enemy,  they  followed  it  with  the  cry, 


GLIMPSES  OE  GUERRILLA  LIFE      237 

"  The  heart,  the  Bruce's  heart,"  there  arose  on  the 
wind  in  that  charge  of  ours  the  wild  cry,  "  The  bugler, 
the  bugler,"  and  we  dashed  after  that  poor  non- 
combatant  and  smothered  him  before  he  could  perform 
"  one  blast  upon  his  bugle  horn." 

We  tore  his  bugle  from  him,  and  did  not  even  take 
his  pocket-book;  no  doubt  some  of  the  pro-Brewer 
men  saw  to  that  later.  As  soon  as  we  could  find 
Brewer  the  bugle  was  thrust  into  his  hand  and  he  was 
told  to  "  blow  her,"  which  he  proceeded  to  do  very 
skillfully,  much  to  our  surprise  and  disgust.  The  truth 
of  this  story  compels  me  to  say,  however,  that  Brewer 
at  once  became  a  hero,  among  our  little  crowd  who 
had  been  inclined  to  belittle  him.  Brewer  assumed  at 
once  the  position  of  Mosby's  bugler,  as  much  to  our 
joy  and  amusement  as  his  first  performance  had  been 
to  our  surprise,  for  we  made  him  blow  whenever  we 
met  him. 

Two  or  three  weeks  after  Brewer  was  equipped  with 
his  new  toy  we  went  on  a  raid  into  Fairfax  county. 
He  and  two  or  three  others  stopped  at  a  farm-house 
to  get  a  good  meal,  while  the  Command  went  ahead; 
and  about  a  mile  down  the  road  we  ran  into  the  Yan 
kees  unexpectedly,  had  a  rattling  hot  fight,  which,  like 
lots  of  others,  lasted  only  a  few  minutes,  gathered  the 
prisoners  together  and  started  back  up  the  road  and 
when  half  way  back  to  the  house  where  Brewer  had 
stopped,  we  met  him  galloping  down  on  us  full  tilt, 
his  bugle  to  his  lips,  blowing  the  "  charge,"  with  all 
the  power  in  his  lungs.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  ever 
laid  eyes  on  Brewer  again :  in  fact  I  do  not  know  if  I 


238  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

would  have  acknowledged  his  acquaintance  after  such 
an  unpardonable  failure  to  make  himself  and  our 
Command  famous.  I  took  the  thing  to  heart,  for  my 
idol  had  fallen. 

This  was  the  first  and  last  bugle  and  bugler  we 
ever  had,  and  we  tried  to  forget  it. 

Our  Command  never  numbered  over  three  hundred 
and  fifty  men  available  for  active  service  at  any  0116 
time,  but  probably  not  a  day  passed  from  the  time 
Mosby  arrived  in  Northern  Virginia,  in  February, 
1863,  with  his  original  detail  of  fifteen  men  until  after 
Lee's  surrender,  that  some  of  the  men  were  not  raid 
ing  and  scouting  somewhere.  There  was  no  idle  time 
for  us.  We  never  went  into  winter  quarters. 

During  our  career  of  a  little  over  two  years  death 
was  making  its  unceasing  subtractions.  In  that  time 
we  had  seventy  of  our  best  men  killed  and  nearly  one 
hundred  wounded.  We  had  nine  of  our  commissioned 
officers  killed,  and  nineteen  of  them  were  seriously 
wounded.  Colonel  Mosby  himself  was  honey-combed 
with  bullets.  He  was  severely  wounded  in  a  fight  at 
Goodin's  tavern  August  24th,  1863.  On  the  I5th  of 
September,  1864,  he  was  wounded  not  far  from  Cen- 
terville  in  Fairfax  county.  He  had  two  men,  Tom 
Love  and  Guy  Broadwater,  with  him,  when  they  ran 
into  five  of  the  Thirteenth  New  York  cavalry  who  had 
been  sent  out  to  head  him  off.  He  was  shot  in  the 
groin  but  kept  his  saddle  and  whipped  the  men.  That 
bullet  is  in  him  yet. 

On  his  way  back  he  stopped  at  a  house  on  the  road 
side  and  had  his  wound  dressed,  the  old  lady  of  the 


GLIMPSES  OF  GUERRILLA  LIFE     239 

house  assisting.  Ten  days  after,  he  passed  that  same 
house  on  a  raid  to  Fairfax  and  woke  the  old  lady  up 
to  ask  some  questions.  She  opened  her  window  and 
asked  who  it  was. 

"It's  Colonel  Mosby;  don't  you  remember  me?" 
he  answered. 

"  Oh  no  it  aint  ?  Colonel  Mosby  was  here  ten  days 
ago  badly  wounded.  I  wouldn't  believe  you  unless  I 
saw  the  wound." 

"  You're  as  bad  as  Thomas  who  doubted  his  Lord/' 
the  Colonel  answered,  "  but  I  can't  stop  now  to  show 
you  my  wound." 

On  the  2  ist  of  December,  1864,  he  was  again  dan 
gerously  wounded  at  Lud  Lake's  house.  The  bullet 
went  into  the  left  side  of  his  body  and  was  cut  out  of 
the  right  side.  He  closely  escaped  peritonitis.  All 
his  wounds  were  at  close  range.  There  is  a  belt  of 
wounds  around  his  waist.  Dr.  W.  L.  Dunn  was  the 
surgeon  of  our  Command  at  the  time  the  Colonel  re 
ceived  all  his  wounds,  and  attended  him. 

One  of  our  best  men,  Ned  Hurst,  was  wounded 
seven  times,  twice  in  one  fight.  He  was  one  of  the 
original  fifteen  men  who  started  out  with  Mosby,  and 
he  came  pretty  nearly  being  in  all  the  fights  of  the 
Command,  for  he  was  often  in  his  saddle  when  he 
ought  to  have  been  in  bed.  He  thought  he  was  safer 
in  his  saddle. 

Dr.  Jim  Wiltshire  wrote  to  me  recently,  charging 
me  not  to  mention  Ned  Hurst  without  saying  that  he 
killed  at  least  one  hundred  men  during  his  Partisan 
Ranger  career.  One  night  we  had  a  fight  at  White 


240  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Post  in  the  Valley,  and  we  were  all  pretty  well  mixed 
up  in  the  darkness.  I  dropped  my  pistol  down  on  a 
man  at  my  side,  and  was  about  to  pull  the  trigger, 
when  a  gentle  old  voice  said  softly, 

"  Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself  Johnny :  it's  me." 

And  I  recognized  Ned's  voice. 

Another  of  our  men,  John  Ballard,  lost  his  leg 
in  a  fight  in  June,  1863,  and  the  following  winter  he 
got  hold  of  a  second-hand  artificial  leg  somewhere 
and  kept  up  the  fighting  until  the  war  ended;  but  in 
a  fight  in  the  Valley  one  day  he  broke  it,  and  somebody 
after  that  gave  him  the  false  leg  of  Colonel  Dahl- 
green,  of  the  Union  Army,  who  was  killed  near  Rich 
mond  on  his  celebrated  raid. 

Our  little  Command  in  two  years  lost  more  men 
killed,  wounded  and  captured,  and  more  officers 
killed  and  wounded,  than  any  full  cavalry  regi 
ment  during  the  entire  four  years  of  the  war,  and  we 
were  in  more  fights,  big  and  little,  during  our  two 
years  of  existence,  than  any  cavalry  or  infantry  regi 
ment  in  the  army.  Our  loss  in  killed  and  wounded 
in  nearly  every  fight  was  much  less,  proportionately  to 
the  number  of  men  on  both  sides,  than  the  enemy's, 
but  in  a  few  engagements  our  dead  and  wounded  out 
numbered  theirs. 

At  Harper's  Ferry  we  had  eight  men  killed  in  a 
fight,  eight  of  the  bravest  and  best  men  in  our  Com 
mand,  or  in  the  Southern  army.  Captain  William 
Smith  of  my  company,  D,  and  Lieutenant  Tom  Turner 
of  company  A  were  of  the  number,  men  on  whom 
Mosby  relied  under  all  circumstances. 


GLIMPSES  OF  GUERRILLA  LIFE      241 

Frank  Stringfellow  was  a  scout  for  General  Stuart 
who,  with  a  detail  of  about  a  dozen  men,  operated  in 
our  section  of  the  country  for  a  short  time  in  the  win 
ter  of  1863-4.  He  was  trusted  by  General  Stuart  and 
was  a  brave,  untiring,  valuable  man.  He  informed 
Mosby  of  the  condition  of  the  camp  at  Harper's  Ferry 
early  in  January,  1864,  and,  on  the  night  of  the  gth 
of  that  month,  acting  on  his  information,  verified  by 
Mosby,  we  attacked  a  camp  with  one  hundred  of  our 
men.  Major  Cole  and  his  Maryland  battalion  of  cav 
alry  were  camped  on  the  mountain-side  of  Loudoun 
Heights  in  winter  quarters,  with  heavy  re-enforce 
ments  of  infantry  nearby.  The  night  was  bitterly  cold, 
and  the  march  in  single  file  up  the  frozen  mountain 
side  was  a  reminder  of  Washington  at  Valley  Forge. 
Mosby  had  laid  his  plans  carefully  for  a  successful 
blow  at  the  enemy  and,  if  Stringfellow  had  not  blun 
dered,  Cole's  Command  would  have  been  wiped  from 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

Every  condition  was  favorable  for  the  accomplish 
ment  of  a  brilliant  night  attack  and  victory,  and  Mosby 
rarely  failed  to  carry  out  his  plans.  As  a  compliment 
to  Stringfellow,  Mosby  ordered  him  to  surround  the 
Headquarters  building  and  capture  Cole  and  his  offi 
cers,  while  our  Command  attacked  and  captured  the 
camp. 

We  reached  the  rear  of  the  camp  and  found  every 
thing  favorable  for  our  purpose;  within  one  or  two 
hundred  yards  of  the  camp  Stringfellow  was  sent 
ahead  on  his  mission,  and  we  followed  slowly  in  or 
der  to  give  him  time  to  do  his  part.  Suddenly  and 


242  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

without  warning-,  Stringfellow  and  his  men  came 
charging  and  yelling  and  firing  into  the  camp,  having 
made  no  effort  or  attempt  to  catch  Cole  or  the  other 
officers. 

Mosby  then  charged,  mistaking  them  for  the  enemy. 
The  noise  had  aroused  Cole  and  his  men,  and  they 
met  us  with  a  deadly  fire  from  their  protected  position 
in  their  camp.  Our  attack  was  so  impetuous  that  they 
were  driven  into  the  surrounding  woods,  but  they  con 
tinued  to  pour  their  deadly  fire  into  us  and,  as  String- 
fellow's  blunder  had  thrown  us  and  our  plans  into 
confusion,  and  as  the  nearby  infantry  would  soon  be 
on  us,  we  retreated  in  good  order,  bringing  out  our 
prisoners  and  horses  safely,  but  leaving  our  dead  and 
some  of  the  wounded  on  the  field.  While  the  fight 
lasted  it  was  terrific,  for  both  sides  were  in  deadly 
desperation,  but  they  outnumbered  us  two  to  one,  and 
we  had  to  retreat.  We  killed  five  of  Cole's  men, 
wounded  seventeen,  and  captured  and  brought  out  six 
prisoners  and  about  sixty  horses.  Our  loss  was  four 
killed  and  seven  wounded,  four  of  the  latter  dying  in  a 
few  days.  We  lost  only  one  man  taken  prisoner. 

Ordinarily  the  result  of  this  fight  would  be  consid 
ered  in  our  favor.  Nevertheless,  we  always  looked 
upon  it  as  a  little  Waterloo,  for  the  men  we  lost 
seemed  to  us  worth  more  than  all  Cole's  Battalion. 


CHAPTER  XX 


I  HAVE  referred  frequently  to  Mr.  Blackwell  in  pre 
ceding  chapters,  but  I  have  not  given  any  particu 
lars  of  the  man  as  we  knew  him.  About  the  time 
I  met  Mosby  by  appointment  at  Blackwell's,  in  the 
summer  of  1863,  there  was  only  a  slight  acquaintance 
between  the  two  men.  I  don't  believe  to  this  day  Col 
onel  Mosby  could  give  any  special  reason  why  he  be 
gan  going  to  Blackwell's  after  our  meeting  there,  but 
it  is  a  fact  that,  unintentionally  or  unconsciously,  the 
men  began  to  call  the  place  Mosby's  Headquarters. 
In  fact  he  could  be  found  there  oftener  than  at  any 
other  place  in  "  Mosby's  Confederacy  "  when  he  was 
not  in  the  saddle. 

If  our  men  wanted  to  see  him  or  wanted  to  hear  of 
him  they  naturally  drifted  to  Blackwell's  and  if  he  was 
not  there  they  generally  learned  something  about  him. 
I  am  inclined  to  believe  he  was  attracted  largely  by  the 
personality  of  Mr.  Blackwell.  The  man  was  attrac 
tive,  as  well  as  unique;  and  he  was  loyal.  There  was 
nothing  about  his  house  or  his  farm  to  draw  one  to  it, 
for  the  dwelling  was  so  small  that  the  few  of  us  who 
made  it  our  home  completely  filled  it.  There  were 
only  five  rooms  in  it  and  they  were  little  rooms,  but 

243 


244  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

the  warmth  of  welcome  there  was  enough  to  have 
filled  a  baronial  castle. 

The  little  dining-room  could  accommodate,  on  a 
pinch,  about  eight  people  at  table;  and  I  never  knew 
the  day  that  a  second  or  third  relay  of  visitors  was  not 
entertained  at  the  board.  Joe  Blackwell  never  let  a 
man  go  away  from  his  house  uninvited  to  break  bread 
with  him,  and  all  invitations  were  accepted.  How  he 
kept  his  head  above  water  I  do  not  know,  for  his  farm 
did  not  produce  a  thing  but  grass  and  not  much  of 
that.  His  place  was  too  much  of  a  storm  center  to 
admit  of  any  farming,  and,  as  the  negroes  had  nearly 
all  gone  North,  Blackwell's  field  force  was  reduced  to 
one  gentleman  from  Limerick,  Ireland,  Mr.  Lat  Ryan, 
who  was  totally  unable,  physically,  to  cope  with  the 
problem  of  successful  farming.  Most  of  Lat's  time 
was  spent  in  fussing  with  Colonel  Mosby's  old  negro, 
Aaron,  who  was  always  boss  wherever  he  was  living, 
and  who  ordered  Lat  around  all  day  and  every  day.  I 
managed  to  keep  on  Lat's  good  side  by  occasionally 
stocking  him  with  tobacco,  or  a  flask  of  newly  distilled 
corn  nectar,  from  some  mountain  still,  but  if  my  con 
tributions  were  too  far  apart  I  was  sure  to  hear  from 
him  in  some  disrespectful  remark  reflecting  on  my  gen 
erosity  or  my  bravery ;  and  sometimes,  when  old  Aaron 
had  been  rubbing  Lat's  fur  backwards  for  a  day  or 
two,  I  came  in  for  dire  threats  of  losing  my  horses 
in  the  next  Yankee  raid,  by  his  refusal  to  run  off  to 
the  mountains  with  them. 

Mr.  Blackwell  sometimes  found  fault  with  Lat  and 
threatened  to  discharge  him,  but  would  promptly  re- 


'  THE  CHIEF  "  245 

lent  when  he  remembered  that  Lat  was  the  only  avail 
able  farm-hand,  white  or  black,  in  the  county.  All 
the  negroes  had  run  off  and  all  the  white  men  were 
soldiers  except  Lat,  and  he  would  gladly  have  been 
in  the  army  if  the  authorities  would  have  accepted  him ; 
but  on  examination  he  was  found  to  be  badly  crippled 
in  both  legs  and  both  feet;  nearly  all  his  teeth  were 
gone  (and  teeth  counted  during  the  war,  for  cart 
ridges  were  made  of  paper  and  had  to  be  torn),  his 
hands  were  twisted  and  curled  up  with  rheumatism; 
both  eyes  were  dim  at  certain  stages  of  the  moon 
(Aaron  said  he  was  moon-eyed)  and  he  was  hard  of 
hearing  when  you  asked  him  to  do  anything.  In  fact 
he  was  a  sick  man  from  a  military  standpoint,  and 
was  only  waiting  for  the  war  to  close  and  the  Ma- 
nassas  Gap  Railroad  to  resume  operations,  so  he  could 
get  a  job  as  flag  man  at  the  crossing  nearby,  a  duty 
he  had  performed  before  the  war. 

But,  if  men  were  lacking  on  the  BlackweH  farm, 
their  absence  was  more  than  made  up  by  a  force  of 
women  who  did  all  the  domestic  work.  The  old  yel 
low  cook  made  biscuits  and  loaf  bread  and  corn  pud 
ding  that  would  make  your  lips  smack,  and  the  house 
maids  were  kept  on  a  trot  from  the  kitchen  to  the  house 
during  the  three  meals  each  day.  Mr.  BlackweH 
showed  his  pleasure  in  having  the  Colonel  and  the  men 
around  him  and,  little  by  little,  he  took  upon  himself  a 
military  importance  which  the  Colonel  encouraged  and 
when,  one  day,  he  was  addressed  by  Johnny  Edmonds 
and  me  as  "  Chief,"  his  place  in  the  Command  was 
settled. 


246  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

From  that  moment  everybody  addressed  him  as 
"  Chief/'  and  he  swelled,  fairly  swelled,  with  impor 
tance.  He  was  colossal  of  stature,  anyway,  but  the 
newly  acquired  title  simply  inflated  him  till  he  appeared 
to  weigh  about  four  hundred.  He  began  wearing  a 
gaudy  uniform  of  gray,  though  he  had  never  served 
a  day  in  the  army,  and  his  boots  were  Wellingtonian. 
Steel  spurs  jangled  on  his  heels  and  a  brace  of  re 
volvers  never  left  his  belt  except  when  he  went  to  bed. 
He  bought  a  splendid  horse  to  ride  and  got  a  complete 
military  equipment.  He  strutted  around  his  domain 
with  infinitely  more  pomposity  than  any  General  in 
either  army  and,  from  discussing  our  raids,  he  in  time 
began  criticising  them ;  before  the  war  ended  he  wanted 
to  command  us. 

There  was  a  question  as  to  who  was  the  more  afraid 
of  being  captured,  he  or  old  Aaron,  but  he  was  always 
the  first  to  get  away  when  the  report  of  the  Yankees 
came.  He  bragged  so  much  about  his  valor  and  his 
military  ability,  that  we  finally  badgered  him  into  go 
ing  on  a  raid  with  us,  and  that  came  near  being  his 
undoing.  We  held  out  the  inducement  of  plunder  to 
him,  and  he  fell.  We  took  him  on  the  Point  of  Rocks 
raid,  July  4,  1864,  and  as  he  approached  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  Potomac,  and  the  boys  pictured  to  him 
the  splendors  of  a  sutler's  store  and  the  glory  of  cap 
turing  it,  his  enthusiasm  rose  to  its  highest,  and  he  was 
frantic  for  the  attack. 

Scrambling  across  the  river  at  the  imminent  risk  of 
'drowning,  he  finally  emerged  soaking  wet,  and  started 
with  the  rest  of  us  in  a  gallop  to  attack  the  post.  Just 


A  RICHMOND  GROUP  IN  1865 

LT.  BEN.  PALMER.  WALTER  GOSDEX. 

JOHX  W.  Mrxsox.  TOM  BOOKER.  SERGT.  BABCOCK. 


"THE  CHIEF"  247 

then  a  volley  was  poured  into  us  from  the  men  in  the 
works,  and  the  "  Chief  "  broke  down.  He  had  not  ex 
pected  any  fighting,  for  we  told  him  there  never  was 
any  fighting  when  sutlers  were  captured.  At  the  first 
report  of  the  guns  he  checked  up  his  horse  with  a  jerk, 
and  began  bemoaning  his  unhappy  fate. 

"  Oh,  my  Lord,  why  did  I  ever  come  on  this  damned 
raid,  to  have  my  brains  shot  out  ?  Why  did  I  make  a 
damned  fool  of  myself  just  for  a  few  yards  of  calico 
and  a  new  pair  of  boots?  Why  didn't  I  stay  in  my 
own  comfortable  home  and  let  the  damned  Guerrillas 
do  their  own  fighting  and  robbing?  Ah!  will  I  ever 
see  my  family  again  ?  No !  No !  No !  I  am  a  dead 
man  sure!  How  can  I  get  away  from  these  infernal 
Yankees  that  have  been  after  me  for  a  year  or  more? 
Oh!  if  the  Lord  will  only  forgive  me  this  time  I 
promise  never  to  make  an  ass  of  myself  again!  If  I 
ever  get  back  home  again  I'll  stay  there  the  balance  of 
my  life!" 

But  the  "  Chief  "  forgot  all  his  woes  very  soon  after 
wards.  In  a  few  days  all  his  bravado  returned  and 
he  swore  he  never  enjoyed  anything  so  much  as  the 
raid  on  Point  of  Rocks ;  in  fact  he  said  we  never  would 
have  taken  the  place  but  for  him.  For  two  or  three 
months  we  all  humored  him  in  his  conceit  and  praised 
his  valor,  and  I  really  believe  we  might  have  induced 
him  to  go  with  us  on  another  raid,  but  the  Yankees 
came  up  to  our  country  and  settled  on  us  for  awhile 
and  soon  after  their  arrival  they  burned  the  "  Chief's  " 
little  home  and  all  his  farm  buildings,  and  drove  him 
and  his  family  away,  to  seek  shelter  elsewhere;  and 


248  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

the  happy  years  of  our  experience  at  Mosby's  Head 
quarters  were  to  become  only  a  memory. 

Few  of  us  ever  saw  the  Chief  again  during  the  war, 
but  Colonel  Mosby  got  an  appointment  for  him  in  the 
Government  service  some  years  afterwards,  which  he 
held  for  a  number  of  years.  He  and  the  Colonel  kept 
up  their  friendly  relations  until  a  short  while  ago. 

As  I  write  these  lines  I  hear  from  a  friend  in  Vir 
ginia  that  the  old  Chief  has  just  died.  I  am  truly 
sorry  to  hear  it,  for  I  never  had  a  more  unselfish 
friend. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  COLONEL'S  SERIOUS  WOUNDING 

THE  little  god  of  love  captured  some  of  our  best 
men  during  the  war  and  held  them  more  se 
curely  than  the  Yankees  did.  There  is  no  rec 
ord  of  any  escapes  from  his  imprisonment,  nor  of  any 
attempt  at  escape.  Among  the  good  men  he  got  hold 
of  and  held  onto  were  Colonel  Chapman,  Lieutenant 
Fount  Beattie,  and  Ordnance-Sergeant  Jake  Lavinder. 
The  latter  was  married  on  December  2ist,  1864,  at 
Mr.  BlackwelPs  home,  or  rather  the  place  he  was  living 
at  after  his  own  home  had  been  burned.  Colonel 
Mosby  attended  the  wedding,  the  bride  being  a  sister 
of  Mrs.  Blackwell  and  of  Johnny  Edmonds  and,  like 
all  the  rest  of  her  family,  great  favorites  of  Mosby. 

Word  came  during  the  festivities  that  a  raiding 
party  was  in  the  neighborhood  and  Colonel  Mosby 
and  Tom  Love  started  out  to  look  for  the  raiders,  and 
if  necessary  to  gather  our  men  together  to  attack 
them.  Near  Rectortown  he  saw  them  going  into  camp 
for  the  night,  as  he  supposed,  and  rode  as  far  as  Lud 
Lake's  where  they  stopped  for  supper,  tying  their 
horses  to  the  front  fence.  The  house  was  surrounded 
by  Yankees  before  the  Colonel  was  aware  of  it,  and 
one  of  them  shot  him  through  a  window  of  the  room 
where  he  was  at  supper.  The  raiding  party,  which 

249 


250  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

was  a  detachment  of  the  Thirteenth  and  Sixteenth  New 
York,  under  Major  Frazer,  had  not  gone  into  camp  at 
Rectortown  as  Mosby  supposed,  but  had  only  stopped 
for  awhile  and  then  resumed  the  march  to  their  camp, 
passing  by  Lake's  house  on  the  way.  Mosby  had 
thrown  his  hat  and  cape  and  overcoat  to  one  side  when 
he  went  into  Lake's  house,  and  when  the  Yankees 
rushed  into  the  house  they  captured  these  articles. 

Seeing  the  Colonel  lying  on  the  floor  desperately 
wounded,  they  examined  him  and  left  him  to  die.  He 
had  hidden  his  uniform  coat  when  he  fell  and  there 
was  nothing  to  indicate  his  rank.  The  members  of 
Lake's  family  and  Tom  Love  "  disowned  "  him,  saying 
they  thought  he  was  a  Lieutenant  in  some  Virginia 
regiment. 

As  soon  as  the  enemy  left,  taking  Tom  Love  with 
them,  the  Colonel  had  Mr.  Lake  remove  him  in  an 
ox  cart  to  a  farm  a  few  miles  away,  where  he  remained 
a  few  days  and  was  then  taken  to  his  father's  home 
near  Lynchburg. 

The  bullet  had  entered  one  side  of  his  body  and 
passed  around  the  abdomen;  it  was  cut  out  of  the 
opposite  side,  and  he  did  not  entirely  recover  from  the 
wound  until  some  time  in  the  following  February.  It 
was  the  worst  jolt  of  many  he  got  during  the  war,  and 
but  for  his  splendid  physical  condition  it  might  have 
put  an  end  to  him. 

Colonel  Mosby's  brother,  William,  who  was  our  ad 
jutant,  had  about  half  a  dozen  men  with  him  on  the 
day  when  he  ran  into  this  raiding  party,  but  had  to 
get  out  at  double  quick.  The  Yankees  were  too  many 


THE  COLONEL  WOUNDED  251 

for  "  our  Billy."  In  the  retreat  a  boy  named  Cocke 
was  thrown  from  his  horse  and  would  have  been  cap 
tured  but  for  Hugh  Mcllhaney  who  caught  him  by 
the  arm  and  lifted  him  up  behind  on  his  horse,  fight 
ing  the  pursuers  all  the  time  to  keep  them  off.  They 
crowded  Hugh  closely  and  drove  him  to  a  fence  which 
he  tried  to  jump,  but  the  load  was  too  much  for  his 
horse  and  he  and  Cocke  were  captured. 

Although  the  Yankees  had  Colonel  Mosby's  over 
coat,  cape,  hat  and  hip  boots  to  identify  him  by,  they 
did  not  find  out  who  it  was  they  had  wounded  for 
several  days,  and  then  seaching  parties  of  hundreds  of 
men  were  sent  to  our  country  to  find  him,  but  the  bird 
had  flown  away.  Our  boys  who  were  captured  the 
day  he  was  shot  swore  like  gentlemen  that  they  did  not 
know  this  man,  though  they  gladly  admitted  they 
themselves  were  Mosby's  men. 

General  Sheridan  reported  to  General  Stevenson  on 
December  2Qth  that  he  had  very  satisfactory  evidence 
that  Mosby  was  mortally  wounded.  On  the  3ist,  in 
a  despatch  to  Emery  he  said :  "  I  have  no  news  to 
report  except  the  death  of  Mosby.  He  died  from  his 
wounds  at  Charlottes ville." 

Major  Frazer,  who  commanded  the  raiding  party 
that  shot  Mosby,  reported  on  December  3 1  st  to  Colonel 
Gamble  that  he  examined  personally  the  man's  wounds 
and  pronounced  them  mortal;  that  he  was  in  a  hurry 
to  return,  as  he  was  behind  time,  having  been  skirmish 
ing  all  the  afternoon  with  the  enemy  ("the  enemy" 
consisted  of  Billy  Mosby,  Johnny  Foster,  Hugh  Mc 
llhaney,  Willie  Cocke  and  two  or  three  others),  that 


252  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

all  his  officers  saw  the  wounded  man  and  none  of  them 
had  the  slightest  idea  it  was  Mosby;  that  when  he 
went  into  camp  an  orderly  brought  him  the  captured 
hat  and  he  at  once  knew  it  was  a  field  officer's,  and 
tried  hard  to  make  the  prisoners  tell  him  who  the  man 
was;  and  that  on  returning  from  a  scout  for  informa 
tion  that  day,  December  3ist,  he  was  unable  to  say 
the  wounded  man  was  Colonel  Mosby. 

Colonel  Gamble  endorsed  the  report  as  follows: 
"  I  exceedingly  regret  that  any  such  blunder  was  made. 
I  have  given  orders  that  all  wounded  officers  and  men 
of  the  enemy  be  brought  in,  although  I  thought  any 
officer  ought  to  have  brains  and  common  sense  enough 
to  do  so  without  an  order." 

Sheridan,  in  his  report  of  December  27th,  said: 
"  They  fired  at  Mosby  and  some  of  his  men  through 
the  windows,  wounding  Mosby  in  the  abdomen."  My 
own  opinion  is  that,  if  some  of  our  men  who  had 
chances  to  shoot  Sheridan  and  Custer  and  Hancock 
and  others  as  they  sat  at  night  in  their  tents,  had  com 
mitted  such  a  murderous  attack  as  Frazer's  men  did 
on  Mosby  there  would  have  been  a  mighty  outcry. 
But  then  it  did  not  matter  what  manner  was  employed 
to  kill  the  "  Guerrilla  Chief,"  so  long  as  he  was  killed. 

Last  year  I  called  on  a  lady  in  New  York,  at  Colonel 
Mosby's  request,  and  identified  the  hat  which  was  cap 
tured  forty  years  before.  It  had  been  treasured  as  a 
valuable  war  relic  all  those  years.  She  sent  the  hat 
to  the  Colonel,  and  I  believe  it  is  now  in  the  museum  in 
Washington  with  other  war  curiosities. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  GUERRILLAS'  LAST  FIGHT. 

WITHIN  a  very  few  days  of  the  final  winding  up 
of  our  career  as  Partisan  Rangers,  or  to  be  ac 
curate,  on  the  3Oth  day  of  March,  1865,  there 
occurred  a  disastrous  little  fight.  There  was  in  our 
command  a  young  fellow  from  the  Valley  of  Virginia, 
Charley  Wiltshire,  who,  like  his  brother  Jim,  was  one 
of  the  blue  hen's  chickens.  He  had  served  honorably 
in  the  regular  Confederate  army,  before  he  joined  our 
Command,  and  had  been  seriously  wounded  several 
times  in  hard  fights;  in  fact  he  was  on  crutches  when 
he  came  to  us,  having  been  honorably  discharged  for 
disability.  He  began  his  guerrilla  tactics  when  he 
should  have  been  in  the  hospital.  He  was  not  long 
idle  after  he  became  a  Mosby  man,  and  in  his  first 
"  mix-up  "  he  broke  his  crutch  over  a  Federal  soldier's 
head.  A  sabre  would  not  have  been  half  as  effectual. 
Mosby  thought  very  highly  of  him  and  told  him  late 
in  the  month  of  March,  1865,  that  he  intended  mak 
ing  him  a  lieutenant  in  the  new  company  H  which 
was  soon  to  be  organized. 

On  March  30,  he  told  Charley  to  take  a  few  men  on 
a  scout  into  the  valley  around  Berryville,  and  with 
George  Murray  Gill,  Bartlett  Boiling,  John  Orrick, 
and  Bob  Eastham,  he  crossed  the  Shenandoah  river 

253 


254  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

beyond  Snickers'  Gap.  Boiling  and  Eastham  were 
told  by  Charley  to  stop  at  a  house  on  the  roadside  to 
get  some  information,  while  the  others  rode  on  and 
caught  sight  of  two  Yankees  at  Mr.  Bonham's  house 
running  towards  the  barn.  Charley  and  his  two  com 
panions  dashed  off  after  the  two  Federals  who  were 
inside  the  barn  for  protection.  Charley  galloped  up 
to  the  door  and  leaning  over  his  horse's  neck,  so  as  tg 
reach  as  far  as  possible  into  the  barn,  he  fired,  and  was 
immediately  shot  from  within  the  building. 

Several  shots  rang  out  from  inside  this  "  fort,"  and 
Gill  and  Orrick  fell,  the  latter  thrown  from  his  horse. 
One  of  the  Federals  fired  through  a  door  and  the  other 
through  a  window.  When  all  three  of  our  men  were 
down  the  Federals  dashed  out  and  made  a  run  for  their 
horses.  One  of  them,  who  proved  to  be  Lieutenant 
Eugene  Ferris  of  the  Thirtieth  Massachusetts,  caught 
Charley  Wiltshire's  horse  and  mounted  it,  shooting 
at  the  dying  boy  who  was  lying  on  the  ground  and 
who  had  raised  on  his  elbow  to  shoot  at  Ferris.  Then, 
ordering  the  other  man  who  was  his  orderly  to  follow 
him,  they  galloped  away  at  top  speed  towards  their 
camp  nearby. 

When  the  firing  began,  Bartlett  Boiling  and  Bob 
Eastham  rushed  to  the  house  at  top  speed  and  met 
Ferris  and  his  man  leaving  on  a  run.  Ferris  shot 
Boiling  in  the  breast  as  he  passed  but  did  not  entirely 
disable  him,  and  he  and  Eastham  started  in  pursuit  of 
the  two  flying  men,  overtaking  them  before  they 
reached  their  pickets.  Orrick  recovered  sufficiently  to 
join  them  in  the  chase,  which  ended  when  they  reached 


THE  GUERRILLAS'  LAST  FIGHT       255 

their  camp.  Boiling,  wounded  as  he  was,  dragged  the 
orderly  from  his  horse  and  captured  him,  while  East- 
ham  fired  at  Ferris  and  began  to  club  him  from  his 
horse,  but  Ferris  on  the  captured  horse  got  away,  still 
chased  by  Boiling  and  Orrick. 

When  the  race  was  over  and  they  rode  back  to  Bon- 
ham's  house,  they  found  Charley  Wiltshire  and  George 
Gill  desperately  wounded  and  being  cared  for  by  the 
ladies.  Charley  was  later  removed  to  Mr.  Gilbert's 
and  died  there  April  6.  George  Gill  managed  to  go 
as  far  as  the  mountains  on  his  way  back  to  our  coun 
try,  but  had  to  stop  and  in  a  very  few  days  died, 
breathing  thanks  with  his  expiring  breath  for  the  privi 
lege  of  giving  his  young  life  to  his  country. 

Mr.  John  Gill  of  Baltimore,  who  was  then  attached 
to  General  Fitzhugh  Lee's  staff,  was  in  our  country 
scouting,  and  had  gone  on  several  raids  with  our  men. 
George  Murray  Gill  was  his  cousin,  and  John  Gill  was 
at  his  death  bed  and  gave  him  Christian  burial  on  the 
mountainside.  The  body  of  our  gallant  Maryland  boy 
now  rests  in  Green  Mount  Cemetery  in  Baltimore. 

For  his  part  in  this  affair  Lieutenant  Ferris  received 
from  the  Secretary  of  War  a  medal  of  honor  for  his 
distinguished  gallantry  in  the  face  of  the  enemy. 

Dr.  Lawrence  Wilson,  of  the  pension  office  in  Wash 
ington,  formerly  of  the  Seventh  Ohio  Infantry,  First 
Brigade,  Second  Division,  Twelfth  and  Twentieth 
Army  Corps,  read  an  account  of  this  fight,  in  a  book 
written  in  1867  by  Major  John  Scott.  The  Doctor 
only  saw  the  book  thirty  years  later  and,  being  at 
tracted  by  the  story,  he  wrote  to  some  of  the  partici- 


256  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

pants  and  then  applied  to  the  Secretary  of  War.  The 
medal  resulted. 

The  last  record  of  our  defeat  is,  by  a  singular  irony 
of  fate,  the  record  of  our  last  fight,  a  fight  that  took 
place  on  the  loth  of  April,  1865,  one  day  after  Lee's 
surrender  at  Appomattox.  We  did  not  know  of  that 
event  at  the  time,  but  possibly  the  fight  would  have 
taken  place  just  the  same  if  we  had  known  it.  The 
Eighth  Illinois  Cavalry  was  our  adversary  on  this  occa 
sion,  as  it  had  been  so  frequently  for  two  years  pre 
ceding.  We  had  tested  their  mettle  and  felt  their  bul 
lets  sufficiently  to  have  a  proper  respect  for  them. 
These  men  would  fight  at  the  drop  of  a  hat,  and  we 
knew  it  meant  bloodshed  whenever  we  came  together. 

On  the  9th  of  April  Captain  George  Baylor  of  Mos- 
by's  Command  was  put  in  charge  of  Company  H, 
which  had  been  organized  but  a  few  days  before,  and 
was  composed  almost  entirely  of  recent  recruits  to  the 
Command.  With  him  was  a  part  of  old  Company  D, 
and  his  mission  was  to  raid  the  Federal  communica 
tions  in  Fairfax  county  and  capture  a  wagon  train; 
incidentally  to  win  his  spurs.  Every  newly  elected 
Captain  was  given  the  chance  to  show  what  stuff  he 
was  made  of.  Baylor  had  come  to  us  with  a  fine 
reputation  won  in  the  regular  army,  but  that  did  not 
signify  that  he  would  make  a  good  Captain  of  Mosby's 
men,  and  so  he  was  turned  loose  on  his  own  responsi 
bility,  "  to  do  something." 

Lieutenant  Ed.  Thomson  acted  as  guide  for  the 
party.  The  wagon  train  which  it  was  supposed  Bay 
lor  would  find  hauling  wood,  had  been  withdrawn; 


THE  GUERRILLAS'  LAST  FIGHT       257 

possibly  the  authorities  had  heard  of  the  projected  raid, 
and  he  was  returning  with  his  men.  He  stopped  at 
Arundel's  farm  for  rest  and  feed,  and  the  men  dis 
mounted.  Baylor  did  not  put  out  a  picket,  and  sud 
denly  out  of  nowhere  that  Eighth  Illinois  crowd  burst 
on  him  and  his  men,  bringing  confusion  with  them. 

The  Mosby  men,  unprepared  for  the  attack  and 
many  of  them  unarmed,  broke  for  cover.  One  of 
Baylor's  boys,  J.  D.  Shewalter,  now  a  lawyer  in  Colo 
rado  Springs,  acted  as  rear  guard  during  the  entire 
retreat  of  several  miles.  He  was  riding  a  horse  that 
would  not  run,  insisting  on  trotting  the  whole  distance 
and,  as  all  the  rest  of  our  men  were  sprinting,  he  was 
left  in  the  rear. 

The  Federal  Commander  called  on  him  early  in  the 
engagement  to  surrender  and  the  boy  was  willing  to 
do  so,  but  that  trotting  horse  of  his  would  not  let  him. 
Some  of  the  older  members  of  the  Command  made  an 
effort  to  check  the  stampede,  fighting  their  pursuers,  in 
a  way,  as  they  ran,  but  their  efforts  were  in  vain. 
Among  them  were  Captain  Baylor,  Joe  Bryan,  Ed. 
Thomson,  Charley  Dear,  Jim  Wiltshire,  Frank  Carter, 
Walter  Gosden,  and  a  few  others.  Bryan  and  Wilt 
shire  saw  one  of  their  men,  Sergeant  Mohler,  trying 
to  escape  on  foot.  His  horse  had  been  shot,  and  they 
rode  up  on  each  side  of  him  and,  taking  hold  of  his 
wrists,  galloped  along  with  him  until  he  overtook  a 
riderless  horse  which  he  mounted;  but  he  was  cap 
tured  shortly  afterwards.  He  always  declared  that  if 
he  had  been  allowed  to  proceed  under  his  own  steam 
he  would  have  got  away. 


258  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Walter  Gosden  checked  up  his  horse  to  help  a  man 
that  was  down.  Shewalter  saw  the  danger  of  stop 
ping  then  and  called  out  to  him  to  save  himself.  Just 
then  the  bullets  were  flying  pretty  fast  and  Shewalter 
began  using  a  very  select  brand  of  profanity  which 
Gosden  thought  was  emanating  from  one  of  his  Yan 
kee  pursuers;  as  each  new  expression  escaped  Shewal- 
ter's  lips,  Gosden's  spurs  went  deeper  into  the  sides  of 
his  horse  and,  without  looking  around  to  see  who  was 
cursing,  he  fired  his  pistols  back  recklessly  but  harm 
lessly  at  close  intervals,  till  both  were  empty  and  Gos 
den  was  almost  dead  from  exhaustion. 

Our  loss  was  one  man  wounded  and  four  taken 
prisoners ;  the  enemy's  loss  was  four  men  wounded  and 
a  number  of  horses  killed.  The  chase  was  kept  up  as 
far  as  Wolf  Run  Shoals  near  the  old  Bull  Run  battle 
field.  Jim  Wiltshire  and  Frank  Carter  fired  the  last 
shots  in  the  affair  and  shot  the  last  man. 

Charley  Dear  made  his  will  the  night  before  this 
fight,  and  among  his  legatees  was  Joe  Bryan,  who  was 
to  fall  heir  to  some  new  socks  which  Charley  had 
come  in  possession  of,  and  of  which  he  was  very  proud. 
During  the  fight  Charley  was  thrown  from  his  horse 
and  rolled  over  and  over  into  a  gulch,  with  his  horse 
following  a  close  second.  Joe  could  not  help  thinking 
of  the  priceless  socks  that  were  so  soon  to  be  his.  The 
unfortunate  Ranger  turned  up  next  day,  however,  safe 
and  sound,  and  the  new  socks  did  not  change  hands. 

This  was  the  last  fight  and  the  last  whipping  of 
Mosby's  Command.  Colonel  Mosby  was  not  in  it,  but 
every  man  wished  he  had  been,  for  a  different  story 


From  a  PJiotograph  by  Kennedy ,  Washington. 

JOHN  S.  MOSBY, 

AT  THE  CONCLUSION-  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  IN  THE  UNIFORM 
OF  A  CONFEDERATE  COLONEL. 


THE  GUERRILLAS'  LAST  FIGHT       '259 

would  have  been  told.  Once  before,  on  the  2Qth  of 
October,  1864,  a  newly  elected  Captain,  trying  to  win 
his  spurs,  had  run  into  the  Eighth  Illinois  Cavalry  and 
got  a  thrashing.  There  seemed  to  be  a  fatality  in  pit 
ting  a  new  Captain  of  our  Command  against  Farns- 
worth's  old  Eighth. 

The  foregoing  are  some  of  the  most  memorable 
fights  in  which  the  enemy  got  away  with  us.  I  have 
not  undertaken  to  record  all  our  disasters ;  as  I  said,  I 
am  not  writing  its  history.  Now  that  I  look  back  over 
it  all,  and  review  the  memories  of  those  eventful  years, 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  defeats  we  occasionally 
suffered  did  as  much  as  our  victories,  if  not  more,  to 
cement  us  closely  together  in  those  days,  and  to  make 
us  feel  tenderly  towards  each  other  now  that  we  are 
old. 

In  this,  our  last  affair,  some  of  the  first  and  some  of 
the  last  to  join  the  Command  fought  side  by  side,  and 
such  was  the  influence  of  the  "  Mosby  men  of  record  " 
upon  the  newcomers,  that  the  latter  sprang,  full- 
fledged,  into  the  booted  and  spurred  Ranger  the  in 
stant  he  touched  elbows  with  the  former  on  a  raid  or 
in  a  fight.  After  the  first  division  of  the  spoils  of  a 
successful  raid  all  Guerrillas  looked  alike  to  me. 

Usually  a  young  fellow  who  joined  Mosby 's  Com 
mand  came  to  him  with  romantic  ideas  of  the  Partisan 
Ranger's  existence.  It  was  something  vague  in  his 
mind.  He  was  ever  on  the  look-out  for  its  secrets 
and  its  inner  workings.  He  took  his  lessons  from 
some  one  or  more  old  models,  but  he  learned  the  first 
day  of  his  enlistment  that  he  must  keep  awake  and 


260  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

fight.  These  were  the  two  important  first  lessons. 
In  a  hand-to-hand  fight  one  day  in  the  latter  part  of 
1864,  a  young  fellow  who  had  just  joined  the  Com 
mand  the  day  before  found  himself  rather  bewildered 
by  the  surging,  yelling,  fighting  crowd  all  around  him 
and,  turning  to  Harry  Hatcher,  one  of  the  old  vet 
erans,  said  in  an  innocent,  schoolboy  way, 

"  How  can  I  tell  who  are  our  men  and  who  are 
the  Yankees?" 

"  Damn  the  difference,"  Harry  replied,  "  pitch  in 
and  shoot  anything." 

Just  then  an  Eighth  Illinois  pistol  was  poked  under 
the  boy's  nose,  but  it  was  not  quick  enough,  for  Har 
ry's  lesson  had  been  learned  when  it  was  given,  and 
a  Yankee  saddle  was  emptied. 

That  Mosby  imparted  the  spirit  of  courage  and 
daring  to  his  soldiers  is  undoubted.  I  have  cited 
many  instances  to  show  what  a  wonderful  influence 
his  presence  in  our  Command  had  over  the  men  who 
came  from  so  many  parts  of  the  South  to  join  him. 

Every  member  of  the  Battalion  did  something 
worthy  of  record,  and  I  had  hoped  to  be  able  to  speak 
of  it.  None  of  the  officers  or  men  were  ever  idle. 
What  I  have  written  is  a  mere  chapter  of  our  story. 
The  little  personal  incidents,  the  individual  scouts  and 
fights,  the  daily  experiences  of  each  man,  these  are 
what  would  have  proven  most  satisfactory  in  a  book 
about  Mosby's  Men,  but  I  could  not  remember  a  tenth 
of  it  all,  and  I  must  leave  what  is  unwritten  to  some 
other,  who  will  write  the  story  as  cheerfully  and  as 
lovingly  as  I  have  written  my  share. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END 

THERE  came  the  time  at  last  when  Mosby's  Men 
had  to  stop  their  raiding  and  fighting.  Four 
years  of  the  bitterest  conflict,  four  years  of 
hardship,  weariness,  privation  and  horror,  had  made 
the  soldiers  of  both  armies  weary  of  war.  We  of  the 
Partisan  Rangers  had  had  little  more  than  two  years 
of  it  on  our  own  account  and,  although  our  Command 
had  more  of  the  poetry  and  romance  in  its  history  than 
fell  to  the  regulars,  we  had  begun  to  feel  some  of  the 
weariness,  the  exhaustion  and  the  satiety  that  invaria 
bly  come  to  an  army,  with  bloodshed;  to  the  victors 
as  well  as  to  the  defeated. 

So  far  as  its  physical  well-being  was  concerned, 
Mosby's  Command  had  never  been  in  better  condition 
than  when  Lee  surrendered  at  Appomattox.  Every 
man  in  the  saddle  was  a  seasoned  Ranger,  better  equip 
ped,  better  prepared  in  every  way  to  continue  fighting, 
than  any  of  the  cavalry  in  the  regular  army. 

Gradually  the  undesirable  element  had  been  weeded 
out;  the  drones  in  the  hive  had  been  eliminated  by  a 
process  which  was  practically  the  survival  of  the  fit 
test;  the  unruly  element,  whenever  it  showed  itself, 
was  hustled  off  under  guard  to  the  regular  army, 
and  a  series  of  unusual  achievements  had  filled  the 

261 


262  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

Command  with  an  overwhelming  desire  to  precipitate 
measures  that  looked  towards  a  continuance  of  the 
struggle. 

That  we  were  in  magnificent  shape  to  perform  our 
best  work  there  is  no  possible  doubt;  but  the  general 
relaxation  that  came  along  the  line  after  Appomattox 
doubtless  communicated  some  of  its  depression  to  us 
and,  while  we  resisted  its  influence,  we  became,  as 
did  all  concerned,  its  unconscious  victims. 

We  had  cast  off  our  old  horses  for  new;  as  each 
individual  pocket-book  swelled,  a  better  horse  was 
added  to  the  already  good  private  stud.  Each  man's 
equipment  was  better  after  every  raid;  a  new  suit  of 
buff  and  gold-embroidered  gray  was  ordered  from  the 
local  tailor  or  the  underground  road  from  the  North. 
Our  arms  were  the  best  to  be  had,  and  the  entire 
Command,  reaping  the  fruits  of  war,  found  itself 
equipped  in  paraphernalia  of  the  finest.  Many  of  the 
men  had  exchanged  the  ordinary  raw-hide  covered 
McClellan  saddles  of  the  private  soldier,  for  the  more 
elaborate,  brass-trimmed,  enamel  leather  saddles  of 
the  commissioned  officer. 

Naturally  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  entire 
Southern  army  was  sufficiently  equipped,  and  our 
hopes  were  lifted  in  proportion  to  the  success  we  met 
on  the  raids  we  made. 

It  seemed  to  most  of  us  that  the  cause  for  which 
we  stood  was  soon  to  be  won  and  that  the  long  winter 
through  which  we  had  passed  was  to  offer  us  full 
compensation  in  the  shape  of  victory. 

Our  last  fight,  which  I  have  just  described,  was 


BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  263 

fought  by  some  of  the  best-dressed,  best-mounted,  and 
best-equipped  men  in  the  army.  The  last  shots  fired 
were  fired  by  two  of  our  young  lieutenants,  Jim  Wilt 
shire  and  Frank  Carter,  mere  boys,  who  were  dandies 
in  their  gorgeous  attire. 

Suddenly  Richmond  fell,  General  Lee  surrendered 
at  Appomattox,  and  the  curtain  of  war  was  rung  down 
on  the  last  act. 

Mosby's  Men,  as  I  have  previously  related,  did  not 
know  of  the  surrender,  when,  on  the  following  day, 
we  went  into  battle  with  the  Eighth  Illinois.  I  some 
times  feel  sure  that,  if  we  had  known  it  was  to  be  the 
last  fight  of  our  career,  every  man  of  us  would  have 
died  rather  than  suffer  the  defeat  that  followed. 

One  may  imagine  the  effect  that  Lee's  surrender 
had  upon  the  Partisan  Rangers,  although  the  tidings 
did  not  reach  us  until  several  days  afterward.  The 
Northern  forces  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia  were  com 
manded  by  General  Hancock,  who,  under  the  date  of 
April  loth  issued  a  circular  addressed  to  the  citizens 
in  the  neighborhood  of  his  lines,  urging  their  co-opera 
tion  in  the  immediate  restoration  of  peace.  He  told 
them,  however,  that  Colonel  Mosby,  the  Partisan 
Ranger,  was  not  included  in  the  terms  of  surrender. 

On  the  same  day,  General  Grant  informed  Mr.  Stan- 
ton,  the  Secretary  of  War,  that  he  thought  all  the 
fragments  of  the  army  of  Northern  Virginia  would 
come  in  and  surrender  under  the  terms  given  to  Gen 
eral  Lee.  He  added  that  he  "  wished  Hancock  would 
try  it  with  Mosby." 

On  the  same  date,  April   loth,   General  Hallock, 


264  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

however,  in  sending  on  to  Hancock  the  Secretary  of 
War's  Order  to  have  the  correspondence  between 
Grant  and  Lee  printed  and  circulated,  closed  his  com 
munication  with  this  positive  sentence: 

"  The  guerrilla  chief,  Mosby,  will  not  be  paroled." 
General  Augur  also  issued  a  circular  in  which  he 
styled  Mosby  "  an  outlaw,"  stating  that  he  would  not 
be  paroled  under  any  circumstances.  It  will  be  seen 
that  there  was  considerable  confusion  as  to  Mosby's 
exact  status. 

On  April  nth  General  C.  H.  Morgan,  Chief  of 
Staff  to  General  Hancock,  addressed  the  following  let 
ter  to  Colonel  Mosby: 

"  HEADQUARTERS  MIDDLE  MILITARY  DIVISION, 

April  nth,  1865. 
Colonel  John  S.  Mosby,  Commanding  Partisans. 

COLONEL:  I  am  directed  by  Major-General  Han 
cock  to  enclose  to  you  copies  of  letters  which  passed 
between  Generals  Grant  and  Lee  on  the  occasion  of 
the  surrender  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia. 
Major-General  Hancock  is  authorized  to  receive  the 
surrender  of  the  forces  under  your  command  on  the 
same  conditions  offered  to  General  Lee,  and  will  send 
an  officer  of  equal  rank  with  yourself  to  meet  you  at 
any  point  and  time  you  may  designate,  convenient  to 
the  lines,  for  the  purpose  of  arranging  details,  should 
you  conclude  to  be  governed  by  the  example  of  Gen 
eral  Lee.  Very  respectfully, 
Your  obedient  servant, 

C.  H.  MORGAN, 
Brevet  Brigadier-General,  and  Chief  of  Stair. 


BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  265 

The  reader  will  observe  that  General  Morgan  did 
not  ask  Colonel  Mosby  to  surrender  himself,  but  "  the 
forces  under  his  command." 

On  the  following  day,  April  I2th,  General  Han 
cock  notified  General  Hallock  that  he  had  sent  a  com 
munication  to  Mosby  offering  to  receive  the  surrender 
of  his  command,  and  added: 

"  It  is  quite  as  likely  that  Mosby  will  disband  as 
that  he  will  surrender,  as  all  his  men  have  fine  horses 
and  are  generally  armed  with  two  pistols  only.  They 
will  not  give  up  these  things,  I  presume,  as  long  as 
they  can  escape.  I  will  employ  the  cavalry  force  here 
in  hunting  them  down." 

Three  days  later,  April  I5th,  Colonel  Mosby  sent 
his  reply  to  General  Hancock,  acknowledging  the  re 
ceipt  of  General  Morgan's  letter  of  the  nth,  conclud 
ing  as  follows: 

"  As  yet  I  have  no  notice  through  any  other  source 
of  the  fact  concerning  the  surrender  of  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia,  nor,  in  my  opinion,  has  the  emer 
gency  yet  arisen  which  would  justify  the  surrender 
of  my  Command.  With  no  disposition,  however,  to 
cause  the  useless  effusion  of  blood  or  to  inflict  on  a 
war-worn  population  any  unnecessary  distress,  I  am 
ready  to  agree  to  a  suspension  of  hostilities  for  a  short 
time  in  order  to  enable  me  to  communicate  with  my 
own  authorities,  or  until  I  can  obtain  sufficient  intelli 
gence  to  determine  my  further  action.  Should  you 
accede  to  this  proposition  I  am  ready  to  meet  any  per 
son  you  may  designate  to  arrange  the  terms  of  an 
armistice." 


266  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

This  communication  was  sent  to  General  Hancock 
through  the  hands  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Chapman, 
Captain  Walter  Frankland,  Adjutant  William  H. 
Mosby,  and  Dr.  A.  Monteiro,  of  our  Command,  and 
was  delivered  to  the  General  in  person. 

General  Hancock  sent  a  prompt  reply,  agreeing  to 
cease  hostilities  until  the  following  Tuesday  at  noon. 
On  the  same  day,  April  i6th,  General  Hancock  re 
ceived  from  General  Hallock  a  notice  that  General 
Grant  authorized  him  to  "  give  Colonel  Mosby  and 
his  Command  the  same  terms  as  those  agreed  upon  by 
General  Lee." 

On  the  1 8th,  Colonel  Mosby  met  a  number  of  the 
Rangers  at  Paris,  in  Fauquier  county,  and  proceeded 
with  them  to  Millwood  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley, 
where  he  met,  by  appointment,  General  George  H. 
Chapman  and  his  officers.  Colonel  Mosby,  having  as 
yet  received  no  news  from  headquarters,  asked  for  an 
extension  of  time. 

The  truce  was  extended  to  the  2Oth,  with  a  condi 
tional  ten  days  further  truce  if  approved  by  General 
Hancock. 

On  the  i  Qth,  General  Hancock  wrote  to  Colonel 
Mosby  informing  him  that  the  truce  would  end  at 
noon  the  next  day,  and  would  not  be  renewed.  On 
the  same  day  Hancock  notified  Hallock  of  what  he  had 
done. 

Promptly  at  noon  on  the  2Oth,  Colonel  Mosby,  with 
twenty  of  his  men,  walked  into  one  of  the  rooms  of 
the  little  brick  building  in  Millwood,  near  Winchester, 
where  the  Northern  officers  were  waiting  for  his  de- 


BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  267 

cision.  The  Colonel  was  informed  that  General  Han 
cock  refused  to  extend  the  truce  any  longer  than  that 
hour  and,  as  Mosby  refused  to  surrender,  the  Federal 
Commander  said  to  him: 

"  The  truce  is  ended.  We  can  have  no  further  in 
tercourse  under  its  terms." 

He  looked  the  Colonel  square  in  the  eyes  when  he 
said  it  and  both  men  appreciated  the  serious  import 
of  the  moment.  This  was  the  first  time  that  Mosby 
had  come,  face  to  face,  with  so  critical  and  peculiar  a 
situation  without  instantly  acting.  Anything  ap 
proaching  it  in  the  past  had  meant  bloodshed.  To  add 
to  the  suspense,  one  of  our  men,  a  rough  diamond 
named  John  Hearn,  who  had  remained  outside  among 
the  soldiers  and  had  got  up  an  impromptu  horse  race 
with  one  of  them,  discovered,  at  the  end  of  his  half- 
mile  dash,  that  a  regiment  of  cavalry  was  drawn  up 
near  the  little  town,  hidden  behind  a  clump  of  trees. 
Instantly  he  dashed  back  to  where  Mosby  was  and 
bolted  into  the  room  where  the  conference  was  being 
held,  shouting  in  a  voice  so  loud  that  all  assembled 
could  hear  him: 

"  Colonel,  the  d d  Yankees  have  got  you  in  a 

trap:  there  is  a  thousand  of  them  hid  in  the  woods 
right  here." 

Mosby  looked  squarely  at  his  informant.  "  Let's 
fight  'em,  Colonel,"  he  continued  coming  to  Mosby's 
side.  "  We  can  whip  'em." 

Up  to  that  moment  the  conference  had  been  digni 
fied,  although  unusual.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
trooper's  dramatic  announcement,  Mosby,  who  had 


268  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

been  seated  during  the  conversation,  rose  to  his  feet 
and  placed  his  hand  on  his  revolver. 

"  If,"  he  said  slowly,  keeping  his  eye  on  the  group 
of  Federal  officers,  "  the  truce  no  longer  protects  us, 
we  are  at  your  mercy;  but  we  shall  protect  ourselves." 

Followed  by  his  twenty  men,  all  ready  to  draw  their 
weapons  at  the  signal,  Mosby  strode  from  the  room. 

If,  at  that  critical  moment  some  hot-headed  Partisan 
had  made  any  move  towards  trouble,  or  a  hammer  of 
a  six-shooter  had  clicked  in  cocking,  that  tavern  room 
would  have  developed  a  catastrophe  that  Dodge  City, 
or  Abilene,  in  the  palmiest  days  of  the  old  cattle  trail, 
could  not  have  equalled. 

The  handful  of  Rangers  filed  out  in  breathless  si 
lence,  Mosby  at  their  head.  Each  man  mounted  his 
horse  without  molestation  and  they  galloped  down  the 
turnpike  to  the  Shenandoah  river.  Plunging  across 
it,  full  tilt,  they  rode  over  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains, 
into  our  own  "  Mosby's  Confederacy,"  their  arms  in 
their  holsters  and  chagrin  in  their  hearts. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  RANGERS  DISBAND 

is  not  room  here  to  recount  all  that  we 
did  and  all  that  we  felt  that  night.  The  out 
look  for  the  morrow  was  gloomy.  Failure  of 
the  cause  for  which  we  had  fought  made  the  chilly 
winds  of  early  spring  seem  colder  and  the  drizzle 
from  the  trees  all  the  drearier.  Colonel  Mosby,  like 
the  rest  of  us,  showed  plainly  that  his  heart  was 
heavy.  The  blow  had  fallen  with  awful  force  and, 
though  little  was  said,  the  gloomy  faces  of  the  Parti 
sans  told  how  tumultuous  were  the  thoughts  surging 
amid  the  memories  of  past  achievements.  Many  of  us 
slept  in  strange  beds,  or  in  none  at  all,  that  night,  for 
we  felt  that  we  were  to  be  henceforth  wanderers. 

In  the  morning,  after  very  brief  preparations,  Colo 
nel  Mosby,  who  was  at  Glen  Welby,  the  home  of 
Major  Richard  Henry  Carter,  in  Fauquier  county, 
asked  for  paper  and  writing  material,  and  then  and 
there  penned  his  farewell  address  to  those  of  the 
Partisan  Rangers  who  had  gone  through  the  war  at 
his  side;  to  those  who  loved  him  as  men  love  their 
fathers,  their  brothers,  and  their  kin. 

By  previous  arrangement  the  whole  Command,  or 
as  many  as  could  be  mustered,  met  on  that  morning 
at  Salem,  and  by  noon  the  line  of  faithful  followers 

269 


270  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

was  drawn  up  to  hear  his  parting  words.  No  sadder 
ceremony  ever  occurred  in  the  life  of  that  little  band 
of  men  and,  as  Mosby  rode  along  the  line,  looking 
each  man  in  the  face,  it  was  plain  that  his  heart  was 
breaking. 

The  document  that  the  Colonel  had  prepared  earlier 
that  morning  was  read  to  each  squadron.  From  the 
original  draft,  now  in  possession  of  Mr.  Frank  R. 
Pemberton  of  New  York  City,  I  herewith  quote  the 
historic  address  in  full: 

"  FAUQUIER  COUNTY,  April  21,  1865. 
"  SOLDIERS  :  I  have  summoned  you  together  for 
the  last  time.  The  visions  we  have  cherished  of  a  free 
and  independent  country  have  vanished,  and  that  coun 
try  is  now  the  spoil  of  the  conqueror.  I  disband  your 
organization  in  preference  to  surrendering  it  to  our 
enemies.  I  am  no  longer  your  Commander.  After 
an  association  of  more  than  two  eventful  years,  I  part 
from  you  with  a  just  pride  in  the  fame  of  your 
achievements  and  a  grateful  recollection  of  your  gen 
erous  kindness  to  myself.  And  at  this  moment  of  bid 
ding  you  a  final  adieu,  accept  the  assurance  of  my  un 
changing  confidence  and  regard.  Farewell. 

"JOHN  S.  MOSBY." 

I  submit  this  as  one  of  the  most  genuine  expressions 
of  regret  that  was  ever  penned,  and  it  is  small  wonder 
that  Mosby  afterward  said:  ".When  writing  I  had 
some  of  the  feelings  of  Boabdil  when  he  took  his  last 
look  at  the  Alhambra." 


By  courtesy  of  Air.  /•'.  A'.  Pcmberton. 

FACSIMILE  OF  MOSBY'S  FAREWELL  ADDRESS. 


THE  RANGERS  DISBAND  271 

It  isn't  possible  for  me  to  write  an  adequate  descrip 
tion  of  the  scene  that  followed.  Each  of  those  present 
was  so  occupied  with  his  personal  griefs  and  regrets 
that  the  full  effect  of  the  occasion  did  not  present  it 
self.  Singly  and  in  groups,  the  participants  in  this 
saddest  of  farewells,  Mosby's  men,  gave  way  to  their 
feelings  in  a  manner  that  requires  no  description. 
Strong  men,  who  had  laughed  in  the  face  of  the  grav 
est  dangers  and  smiled  at  the  pains  of  grievous 
wounds,  walked  apart  to  weep.  Colonel  Mosby,  with 
his  hat  off,  stood  at  the  side  of  the  road,  receiving  the 
clutch  of  friendly  hands,  and  bestowing  brave  words 
on  the  men  with  whom  he  had  fought  for  the  lost 
cause.  The  wild  excitement  of  the  past  two  years,  the 
crash  of  pistols  and  carbines,  the  yell  of  victory,  and 
the  fever  of  battle  were  all  ended  now.  To  many  of 
those  men  that  parting  was  their  first  sorrow. 

Colonel  Mosby  told  them  frankly  that  they  could 
do  whatever  they  chose;  that  if  they  went  to  General 
Hancock  they  could  get  their  paroles  and  be  protected 
in  their  homes;  that  he  did  not  intend  to  surrender, 
but  would  go  South,  possibly  to  connect  with  General 
Johnston's  army. 

In  little  groups  the  men  dispersed  to  meet  next  day 
under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Chapman  and  proceed  to 
the  Valley  of  Virginia,  there  to  surrender.  Mosby 
was  left  with  a  handful  of  boys  who  preferred  to  re 
main  at  his  side,  to  follow  him  blindly  wherever  he 
chose  to  lead  them,  to  become  Knights  Errant  in  a 
new  Crusade. 

There  were  only  about  a  half  dozen  boys  in  this 


272  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

remnant  of  Partisan  Rangers  who  were  with  Mosby 
at  the  last,  and  I  was  one  of  the  number. 

We  started  South  with  more,  but  only  this  little 
group  got  as  far  as  the  neighborhood  of  Richmond. 
Colonel  Mosby  sent  Coley  Jordan  and  me  into  the 
city  to  discover  the  situation  and  report  to  him  the 
next  day  at  a  point  a  few  miles  west  of  the  city,  on 
the  James  river.  I  went  to  the  old  Jeff  Davis  man-  * 
sion,  which  was  then  occupied  by  Federal  officers,  and 
ascertained  that  we  could  raid  them  successfully  at 
night,  capture  the  whole  crowd  and  get  out  of  the 
town  with  them.  I  then  inspected  the  officers'  stables 
which  were  on  Franklin  street,  where  I  found  we  could 
take  every  horse  in  the  stable  and  the  few  guards  who 
were  on  duty. 

After  getting  all  the  information  I  wanted  on  which 
to  base  one  of  the  most  audacious  and  sensational  and 
destructive  forays  of  our  career,  I  rode  back  in  the 
night  and  reported  to  the  Colonel,  who  had  got  tired 
of  waiting  for  my  return  and  thought  that  I  had  fallen 
by  the  wayside  to  the  pleadings  of  my  parents  to 
remain  at  home.  He  turned  to  Ben  Palmer  and  said : 

"  Ben,  if  Munson  don't  come  back  tomorrow,  I  want 
you  to  go  into  Richmond,  but  don't  go  near  your 
father." 

While  I  was  gone  a  canal  boat  came  along  from 
the  city  with  some  officers  aboard.  Ben  Palmer,  at 
Mosby's  request,  went  down  to  the  canal  to  get  the 
news  and  was  given  a  copy  of  a  Richmond  paper  which 
contained  an  account  of  Johnston's  surrender.  Ben 
waited  all  night  on  the  roadside  for  me,  and  I  turned 


THE  RANGERS  DISBAND  273 

up  promptly  the  next  morning.     But  when  I  reported 
to  Mosby  he  said, 

"  Too  late !  It  would  be  murder  and  highway  rob 
bery  now.  We  are  soldiers,  not  highwaymen." 

Our  new-born  crusade  had  come  to  a  sudden  end. 
The  war  was  actually  over. 

It  has  always  been  some  satisfaction  to  me  to  know 
that  I  performed,  as  well  as  I  could,  the  last  order 
for  service  ever  given  by  my  Colonel  to  any  man  in 
his  Command;  and,  as  I  had  done  duty  as  marker 
of  the  cavalry  company  which  performed  the  first 
active  service  of  the  war  in  Virginia,  and  as  this  trip 
to  Richmond  was  one  of  the  last  active  services  of  a 
Confederate  soldier  in  the  State,  I  congratulate  my 
self  that  I  saw  the  race  from  start  to  finish. 

Mosby  bade  the  four  or  five  of  us  an  affectionate 
farewell  and,  in  company  with  Ben  Palmer,  rode  away 
towards  his  home  in  Lynchburg.  About  two  months 
later  he  took  his  parole. 

The  day  he  left  us  he  and  Ben  Palmer  stopped  at 
a  farm-house  for  dinner.  He  did  not  tell  who  he 
was,  and  the  old  farmer,  unable  to  control  a  natural 
curiosity,  asked  him  his  name.  Mosby  told  him,  and 
the  old  man  said : 

"  Colonel,  where  is  your  Command  ?  " 
Turning  around  and  pointing  to  Ben  he  said, 
"  There  it  stands !     That  is  all  that  is  left  of  it." 
No  truer,  braver,  or  better  soldier  in  all  the  South, 
or  all  the  North,  ever  unbuckled  his  weapons  and  laid 
them  down  for  peace,  than  John  S.   Mosby,   Com 
mander  of  the  Partisan  Rangers  of  Virginia. 


274  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA5 

"  Mosby's  Men "  became  a  memory.  They  scat 
tered  far  and  wide,  each  to  take  his  place  in  the  busy 
world;  each  to  contribute  his  share  towards  the  de 
velopment  and  progress  of  the  re-united  country  over 
which  we  fought  so  long  and  bitterly:  each  to  try 
and  make  his  presence  felt  in  the  new  scheme  of 
things.  That  the  great  majority  of  them  have  proven 
worthy  of  the  confidence  Colonel  Mosby  reposed  in 
them,  is  attested  by  their  lives  today.  They  and  their 
children  are  scattered  throughout  the  land  in  all  walks 
of  life,  adorning  the  professions,  the  arts,  the  sciences 
and  the  trades. 

Thirty  years  after  the  Civil  War,  John  H.  Alexan 
der  of  Leesburg,  Virginia,  one  of  the  foremost  mem 
bers  of  the  Command,  issued  a  call  for  a  re-union  of 
the  survivors  to  be  held  in  Alexandria,  Virginia.  In 
response,  there  came  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  of 
the  Rangers,  Colonel  Mosby  among  them.  Many 
speeches  were  made  by  prominent  ex-officers  of  the 
Confederate  Army,  but  most  impressive  of  all  was  that 
of  our  old  Commander.  I  quote  it  in  full,  for  I  think 
no  more  graceful  or  appropriate  re-union  speech  was 
ever  made  at  a  gathering  of  soldiers. 

COLONEL  MOSBY'S  SPEECH, 

"COMRADES:  When,  on  April  2ist,  1865,  I  told 
you  that  I  was  no  longer  your  Commander,  and  bade 
you,  what  we  then  considered,  a  long  and  perhaps 
eternal  farewell,  the  most  hopeful  among  us  could  not 
reasonably  have  expected  ever  to  have  witnessed  a 


THE  RANGERS  DISBAND  275 

scene  like  this.  Nearly  thirty  years  have  passed  away 
and  we  meet  once  more  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac, 
in  sight  of  the  Capitol,  not  in  hostile  array,  but  as 
citizens  of  a  great  and  united  country.  Gun-boats  no 
longer  patrol  the  river;  there  are  no  picket  guards 
on  the  banks  to  challenge  our  crossing. 

"  Your  presence  here  this  evening  recalls  our  last 
parting.  I  see  the  line  drawn  up  to  hear  read  the 
last  order  I  ever  gave  you.  I  see  the  moistened  eyes 
and  quivering  lips.  I  hear  the  command  to  break 
ranks.  I  feel  the  grasp  of  the  hands  and  see  the  tears 
on  the  cheeks  of  men  who  had  dared  death  so  long 
that  it  had  lost  it's  terror.  And  I  know  now,  as  I 
knew  then,  that  each  heart  suffered  with  mine  the 
agony  of  the  Titan  in  his  resignation  to  fate. 

The  rock,  the  vulture,  and  the  chain, 
All  that  the  proud  can  feel  of  pain. 

"I  miss  among  you  the  faces  of  some,  who  were 
present  that  day,  but  who  have  since  passed  over  the 
Great  River.  Memory  brings  back  the  image  of 
many  of  that  glorious  band  who  then  slept  in  the  red 
burial  of  war.  Modern  skepticism  has  destroyed  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  creations  of  Epic  ages,  the  be 
lief  that  the  spirits  of  dead  warriors  met  daily  in  the 
halls  of  Walhalla,  and  there  around  the  festive  board 
recounted  the  deeds  they  did  in  the  other  world.  For 
this  evening,  at  least,  let  us  adopt  the  ancient  super 
stition,  if  superstition  it  be.  It  may  seem  presump 
tuous  in  me,  but  a  man  who  belonged  to  my  Command 


276  A  MOSBY  GUERRILLA 

may  be  forgiven  for  thinking  that,  in  that  assembly 
of  heroes,  when  the  feast  of  the  wild  boar  is  spread, 
Smith  and  Turner,  Mont  joy  and  Glasscock,  Fox  and 
Whitescarver,  and  all  their  comrades,  will  not  be  un 
noticed  in  the  mighty  throng. 

I  shall  make  no  particular  allusion  to  the  part  you 
played  in  the  great  tragedy  of  war.  Our  personal 
associations  were  so  intimate  that  it  would  not  become^ 
me  to  do  so.  But,  standing  here  as  I  do,  amid  the 
wreck  of  perished  hopes,  this  much  at  least  I  can  say 
—  that  in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  and  all  the 
trials  of  life,  I  have  never  ceased  to  feel,  as  I  told  you 
at  parting,  a  just  pride  in  the  fame  of  your  achieve 
ments,  and  a  grateful  recollection  of  your  generous 
kindness  to  myself.  I  remember  —  and  may  my  right 
arm  wither  if  I  ever  forget  —  how,  when  the  mourn 
ful  tidings  came  from  Appomattox  that  >:e  Young 
Harry  Percy's  spur  was  cold,"  you  stood  with  un 
shaken  fidelity  to  the  last,  and  never  quit  my  side 
until  I  told  you  to  go. 

"  A  great  poet  of  antiquity  said,  as  descriptive  of 
the  Romans,  that  they  changed  their  sky  but  not 
their  hearts.  While  I  lived  in  far  Cathay,  my  heart, 
untraveled,  dwelt  among  the  people  in  whose  defense 
I  had  shed  my  blood  and  given  the  best  years  of  my 
life.  In  the  solitude  of  exile  it  was  a  solace  to  hear 
that  my  name  was  sometimes  mentioned  by  them  with 
expressions  of  good  will.  Nothing  that  concerns  the 
honor  and  welfare  of  Virginia  can  ever  be  indifferent 
to  me. 

"  I  wish  that  life's  descending  shadows  had  fallen 


THE  RANGERS  DISBAND  277 

upon  me  in  the  midst  of  friends  and  the  scenes  I 
loved  best.  But  destiny  —  not  my  will  —  compels  me 
to  abide  far  away  on  the  shore  of  that  sea  where 
'  the  god  of  gladness  sheds  his  parting  smile/  I  must 
soon  say  to  you  farewell,  a  word  that  must  be  and 
hath  been.  I  shall  carry  back  to  my  home  by  the 
Golden  Gate  proud  recollections  of  this  evening,  and 
I  shall  still  feel,  as  I  have  always  felt,  that  life  cannot 
afford  a  more  bitter  cup  than  the  one  I  drained  when 
we  parted  at  Salem,  nor  any  higher  reward  of  am 
bition  than  that  I  received  as  Commander  of  the 
Forty-third  Virginia  Battalion  of  Cavalry." 


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